


Hybrid

by StarlitVesper, VesperAfterDark (StarlitVesper)



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breastfeeding, But gets to experience character growth, Codependency, Daddy Issues, Dib has all sorts of weird kinks, Dib is an asshole at first, Domestic Fluff, Egg Laying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Porn, Emotional Roller Coaster, Everyone Has Issues, Fluff and Smut, Get ready to learn everything you never wanted to know about Irken Biology, Guys I'm pulling out all the stops on this one, I don't think there's a single chapter without egregiously explicit sex of some kind, I keep having to add kinks to this, Irken Fieldnotes, Irkens in heat, I’m hand waving all the sci-fi shit, Loads of Cunnilingus, M/M, Mood Swings, Mpreg, Oh my heart, Other, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Pregnant Sex, Pregnant Zim, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Unhealthy Relationships, Xenophiliac Dib (Invader Zim), ZaDr, brought to you by a cunning linguist, i'm so proud of him, loads of dib going down on zim, oh SHIT it got a fucking PLOT!, there will also be vortians, there will be smeets, vivisection kink, xenopreg, zadr mpreg, zimpreg, zussy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 156,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21982351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlitVesper/pseuds/StarlitVesper, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlitVesper/pseuds/VesperAfterDark
Summary: (03/14/2020) Due to Plot happening, I have updated the summary!If you don’t have a decent family, make one!That’s sure not what either Zim or Dib set out to do, but when Zim somehow manages to get pregnant (hint: Dib probably has something to do with it), that option starts to look more and more likely. Maybe even ... preferable??This was going to be a gloriously disgusting smutfest ... but now it’s a gloriously disgusting smutfest that also explores themes of trust, redemption, reconciliation, free will, and what it means to be a family.It’s the found-family, E-for-Explicit disasterpiece you didn’t know you were waiting for, and it has a little bit of everything: romance, adventure, mpreg, heartfelt reconciliations, at least one explicit and lengthy sex scene per chapter, more about Irken biology than you ever wanted to know, mpreg, emotional drama, egg laying, Dib learning how to be a fucking human being, mpreg, lots of crying, Zim going from sexually repressed to hyper sexual, more mpreg …This is mpreg porn with an Actual Fucking Plot. I don’t know how else to warn you.
Relationships: Dib & Zim (Invader Zim), Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 175
Kudos: 601





	1. Corrupted

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning for the first chapter where the lines for consent are not clearly drawn and Zim and Dib’s relationship is not at all healthy. It’s very clear that this relationship isn’t in a good place; I don’t fuck around with glorifying abuse. The whole point here is that they go from being wildly unhealthy to starting to learn how to be good to each other.  
> ******************************************************  
> Check me out on [Tumblr](https://starlitvesper.tumblr.com/), [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/starlitvesper/) and [Twitter (18+ ONLY)](https://twitter.com/starlitvesper) for snippets, updates, my art, ugly selfies and posts about my cats!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no mpreg in this chapter. Nah, we gotta work our way up to that.  
> *********************************************  
> Check me out on [Tumblr](https://starlitvesper.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter (18+ ONLY)](https://twitter.com/starlitvesper) for snippets, updates, ugly selfies and posts about my cats!>

_But you ruined me inside and out._  
_And I've run right past the point_  
_Of turning back, don't get me wrong._  
_I'm just so paranoid of all of this_  
_It's been too long._

[\- Kid Runner, _Thinking Out Loud_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_qHG1ZtwRk)

* * *

_ [The summer before the first semester of college] _

“I get the sense you only invite me over here for less-than-pure reasons,” Zim said with a frown as Dib lifted his shirt and kissed his back.

“Mm, what gives you that idea?”

“Dunno,” Zim replied dryly. “It probably has something to do with how you insist on putting your mouth all over every inch of my body and laying on top of me and putting your hand where it—”

Dib abruptly shoved his hand between Zim’s legs. 

“— _doesn’t belong!!! Stop that!!!_ ” He swatted angrily at Dib’s arm. Dib just rolled onto his back, laughing, as Zim shot him a disgruntled look. “I could be at home doing _so many better things_ than sneaking into your room in the dead of night to be _harassed_ by you. I hope you know that.”

Dib reached over and stroked the ends of his antennae.

“You forgive me.”

Zim ducked his head out of Dib’s reach. “No, I do _not_ _._ You didn’t even say you were sorry!”

“Yeah. ‘Cuz I’m not,” Dib said with a smirk. “You want me to apologize for being into you?”

“What I want you to apologize for being pushy and violating boundaries!” Zim yelled into one of the pillows at the head of the bed. “It’s getting old real fast!” Dib made a dismissive noise and Zim felt himself wilt despite the fact he knew to expect this sort of behavior by now. 

“He’s going to sulk now, isn’t he?” Dib said to the ceiling.

“Not sulking!” Zim snapped. “And don’t talk about me in the third person when I'm right here. It’s weird and rude and I don’t like it.”

“And now he’s angry with me …”

“Quit that!!”

In the hallway, a door banged open, making Zim jump.

“ _DIB!!!”_ Gaz shouted from the other side of Dib’s bedroom door. “Apologize, quit being mean to Zim, and _go the fuck to sleep_ before I decide I want to tell dad about your little sleepovers!” She stomped back down the hall and slammed her door shut.

“Ugh ... How many more weeks until I move out, again?” Dib muttered to himself. The countdown to the end of August and the freedom of college couldn’t come fast enough. He felt eyes on him and glanced over. 

Zim was looking up at him expectantly. “Well?”

Dib rolled his eyes and looked back up at the ceiling where a Milky Way’s worth of glowing plastic stars shone with an eerie green light. “‘Well’, what?”

“Are you going to apologize or am I going to leave?” Zim asked testily, pushing himself up.

“Don’t be like that,” Dib replied dismissively.

“What, exactly, am I being like?”

“Bitchy for no reason.”

“ _Bitchy_ . For no reason,” Zim repeated, feeling completely at a loss. “You _really_ think there’s _no reason_ for me to be upset?”

“None of this has ever been an issue _before_ ,” Dib countered defensively. “I don’t know what the hell your problem is all of a sudden.”

Zim fumed silently for a moment. “I’m so tired of being treated like you can just do whatever you want to me. I thought you'd have to take a hint eventually but apparently not! You know, this day could _easily_ end with me telling you that it’s been a _great_ year and everything, but I somehow liked it _better_ when you were trying to _vivisect me._ Is that you want?”

Dib fixed the ceiling with an irritable frown but said nothing for once.

All of Zim’s bravado left him. “... Is it?” he asked softly. 

He watched as Dib grimaced for a moment before whispering, “No.” Dib finally sat up and leaned back against the wall, his pajamas looking too big on his lanky frame. 

“It gets frustrating when everything I want to do grosses you out or crosses a boundary and I end up feeling like I can’t be physically close to you,” he said darkly.

Zim’s expression softened and he moved to sit between Dib’s legs, leaning back against him. “You can be close to me …” he insisted gently. “Remember when I hated cuddling? And now I like it … I’m working my way up slowly.” Dib still hadn’t moved at all so Zim pressed in closer. “I need for this to be enough for you right now. Please?”

Dib looked down at him, conflicted. “Can we at least try kissing again?”

Zim somehow managed to grimace with his entire body.

“If it still grosses you out too much, I’ll never bring it up again. Just try it one more time and I swear that’s it.”

Zim sighed. This conversation had steered in a completely different direction than he wanted. Yet again, he found himself agreeing to things at the expense of his own desires and comfort. “Alright … If that’s really what you want.”

“It is,” Dib said as he kissed his way around Zim’s neck. Zim turned and Dib gently brushed their lips together. “You know I love you …”

“If you really do, then _fucking_ apologize,” Zim mumbled.

“Okay, okay … Geez. I’m sorry and I love you …”

“Sorry for _what_?” Zim prompted, irritation still evident in his voice. 

Dib sat back and sighed. “I’m sorry I’m so pushy, okay?” he said, actually looking Zim in the eyes for once when he said it. “You’re the only person I find attractive and there’s so much I want to do to … I mean _with_ you—”

Zim caught the slip up but Dib conveniently missed Zim’s slightly horrified expression in response.

“— it can be really sexually frustrating.”

Dib finally looked up and caught the look Zim was shooting his way. He ducked his head guiltily.

“But I guess … none of that is your fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Zim said pointedly. 

Dib was quiet, staring off into the distance.

“I would appreciate it if you stopped taking that out on me,” Zim continued. “Look, if you want a relationship based on only what _you_ want … you're more than welcome to go fuck yourself. Otherwise … you’ve got to start taking into account what I want, too. Compromise with me sometimes and other times … what’s the phrase? ‘Throw me a bone’ every once and awhile. You’ve got to … you’ve also got to stop at _no_ , Dib,” Zim said, his gaze intense. “You’ve asked before why I won’t have sex with you. And while that answer is … _multifaceted_ , one of the biggest contributors is that you _don’t stop when I say ‘no’ to things._ ”

Dib looked massively offended. “If you told me to stop in _that_ case—”

He was cut off by Zim calling him out with a single look. 

“Oh. Sure. So you can ignore me in almost every instance, _but that one’s different._ ”

Dib stuttered out a half-hearted defense, then abruptly folded. Zim gave him an expectant look and he held his hands up in defeat.

“I’ve … got nothing,” he admitted softly. “There’s nothing I can say that won’t make me look like a huge asshole, and I’d like to think I wouldn’t push you if you told me no but …” Dib shrugged sadly before putting his head in his hands. “Sometimes I think that you know better than I do how to be a functional human.”

Zim shrugged. “Maybe. Doesn’t mean you can’t learn, though.”

Dib looked away and Zim wondered if anything he’d said had gotten through.

“So … what _do_ you want?” Dib asked. It was as good a place to start as any.

Zim looked reluctant and conflicted. He met Dib’s eyes and finally relaxed with a resigned sigh. “Right now? … to try kissing you again.”

Dib cast a dubious glance his way. “Really? After all that?”

“Because of all that?” Zim offered, uncertain. “I want to be close to you right now.”

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath … and proceeded to miss Dib’s mouth by a mile. He bounced off Dib’s chin with a frustrated “Dammit!”

Dib smiled, and for once it wasn’t sarcastic or mean spirited or predatory. He put a hand under Zim’s chin and guided him forward. 

“Here … like this …” 

He pressed his lips to Zim’s, ready to feel Zim recoil in disgust as he had previously. When he didn’t, Dib wrapped his arms around him and leaned backwards, pulling Zim on top of him. All of Zim’s movements were shaky and tentative but he kissed back, hands on either side of Dib’s face.

“Are you enjoying this or humoring me?” Dib whispered.

“You know I’m too bad a liar to humor you with this,” Zim mumbled back. He planted a few more endearingly sloppy kisses on Dib’s mouth, then parted his lips slightly as he felt Dib do the same. Dib’s tongue brushed his lips, just before Dib put both hands behind Zim’s head and pressed in close. Zim initially panicked at the sudden intrusion, then froze, then tentatively kissed back. Underneath him, Dib was making quite the racket, clearly enjoying himself. Zim shoved his out tongue past Dib’s lips and got some satisfaction from being able to make Dib squirm and moan beneath him.

Just as Zim was starting to really lose himself in the feel of Dib’s body against his, he felt something between his legs. He came up gasping. 

“Dib!! I said kissing only!” he squeaked, betrayed. 

“What??” Dib asked with wide eyes.

“I told you to quit _groping_ me!”

Dib held his hands up in a show of innocence, looking more than a little frightened. Zim’s antennae drooped behind his head and his eyes went wide as saucers.

“I don’t wanna look,” Zim said, breathlessly. “You do it.”

“I … how is that _better??_ ” Dib asked, incredulous. “I’ve never seen you naked!”

“Hnnnnnngggg if it’s terrible you just don’t tell me about it. I don’t know!” Zim whined. “I’m not the resident expert in between-the-legs-stuff!”

“Jesus Christ,” Dib muttered, sitting up. “Alright, lie back.”

Zim did as he was told, lying back on the pillows and covering his face with his arms. He wished Dib would reassure him or at least put some effort into making the situation feel less like a medical exam. He braced himself as he felt Dib tug his pants off. 

“Holy shit …”

“What?? What is??” Zim chirped in fear.

“Are you really going to make me sit here and describe your own body to you?” Dib asked, bewildered, from between Zim’s legs.

“I’ve never looked at it in detail before!” Zim wailed.

Dib facepalmed. “ _Fucking_ … alright. Let’s just start with the basics. How many types of genitalia does any given Irken _usually have?_ ”

“One …”

“And how many do _you_ have?”

“One?” Zim said tenuously, peaking over his arms. He was moderately certain that was the right answer.

“This is probably going to shock you more than it did me, then …”

Zim finally looked between his legs and was confronted with the sight of a bright pink tentacle that he had _definitely_ never seen before.

“Oh no … oh _fuck no …_ I _do not_ want that there!! Make it go away!!” He curled up into a defensive ball, only uncurling slightly when he felt Dib lay beside him.

“I can help you, but you’re gonna have to let me touch you,” Dib coaxed gently. 

Zim pressed close, their legs tangling until he was slightly straddling one of Dib’s. The sensation felt almost embarrassingly good.

“I can … well, if you let me … I can jerk you off, or …” he started hopefully, then abruptly stopped as he felt Zim begin grinding against him. “Or you could just hump my leg until you come, that works, too,” he muttered tersely. 

“Sorry … this feels amazing,” Zim mumbled into Dib’s shirt. Dib put one hand on Zim’s shoulders and the other at his waist, resigning himself to having to change clothes once Zim inevitably made a mess of things.

“Kiss me.” With how hard Zim was panting, it was hard to tell if he was begging or commanding.

“Scooch up a bit,” Dib said. Zim had somehow managed to shimmy halfway down his leg. 

Their lips finally met and Zim was sloppier than ever, making a cacophony of noises Dib had never heard before and drooling in a way that _definitely_ should have been thoroughly unattractive, yet somehow Dib was more turned on than he had any right to be.

Zim gave a long, high moan. “This is starting to feel weird … why is it starting to feel weird?”

“What, like awkward?” Dib asked, watching Zim’s ass bounce as his shirt rode up. He wanted to slide his hand down just a little more …

“Nnnngg no … like between-my-legs weird …”

Dib thought for a second too long about how to quickly explain “You’re about to come” in words Zim could understand. Zim shouted in surprise as his tentacle suddenly jumped and pulsed against Dib’s leg. Dib panicked and pressed Zim’s face into his shirt to muffle him. He could feel wetness soaking through the fabric of his pajamas, and it seemed Zim had suddenly noticed as well, since he immediately circled back around to kvetching.

“What the …? Oh, that’s just fucking _great_ ,” Zim griped breathlessly as Dib rushed to pull his pants off. Zim gave him a bewildered look and gestured to his cum-spattered shirt. “What are you doing?? You’re not just going to leave me like this, are you??” he asked in a panic. 

“One second, Zim,” Dib said, eyes closed as he frantically beat himself off.

Zim watched him blindly grope for the tissue box on the bedside table. “Oh, okay, but you couldn’t have grabbed one of those for _me_?” Zim asked sarcastically.

“Not now, Zim,” Dib said through gritted teeth, trying to block out the whinging and focus on his dick in his hand, wishing it could be inside Zim instead. He was certain Zim wouldn’t be wasting his breath complaining if that were the case. 

“You could have at least _warned me_ that was going to happen!”

“Shut … _up_ …” Dib grunted as he doubled over, experiencing perhaps the most frustrating orgasm ever; desperate and much-needed but not remotely the conditions under which he imagined first getting off in front of Zim. 

“It’s all over my shirt, Dib!” 

“First of all, that’s _my shirt_ ,” Dib panted, throwing the tissue in the trash and pulling off his own ruined shirt. He held out a hand. “Second, you're perfectly capable of taking it off yourself.”

Zim gingerly removed the shirt and balled it up before tossing it at Dib, who promptly got to work bagging the evidence and tossing it in the hamper.

When he turned back around, Zim was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking small and morose. Dib went to sit next to him, all too aware of every millimeter of space between them. He wasn’t sure what to do or say; the whole situation had gone sideways rather quickly. Luckily, he sat there in awkward silence long enough that Zim decided to speak up.

“... Physical comfort would be nice about now,” he whispered without looking up.

“Do you want either of us to put on clothes first?”

“Don’t care,” Zim mumbled, moving to get back under the covers and curling up in a ball. Dib crawled over beside him and hugged him from behind. Despite his obvious desperation for physical reassurance, Zim’s body language was strangely reluctant.

“Is everything okay?” Dib’s tone was genuine and it only served to hammer home for Zim that fixing their entire dynamic was going to take more than just a few minutes of chatting. Dib’s self-awareness left quite a lot to be desired. Getting him to the point where he could independently realize where he was going wrong was going to take some dedication on Zim’s part.

“I thought you enjoyed yourself, for the most part,” Dib continued, bewildered.

“Okay, sure, it felt good for a bit there,” Zim admitted, sounding upset. “But I wasn’t prepared for the surprise ending and it was gross and embarrassing and not something I wanted to do in front of you!”

“I’m not bothered by it. And how the hell did you _not_ realize that was going to happen?”

“I … what … how should I have known??” Zim sputtered.

“Are you seriously telling me you’ve never watched porn or opened an anatomy textbook or … wait didn’t you take sex ed?”

Zim scowled. “One: _ew_ , no. Two: why would that be relevant to anything I was doing, ever? And three: I had the robo parents write a note to get me out of it because _EW_ . Adding on to that … I didn’t even know that I _thing_ was _hiding inside me_ , waiting for you to come along and … and _activate it_. And even if I did, why should I think there’s a one-to-one correlation between Irken and human anatomy? You call me a ‘space cockroach’ all the time!”

“Rewind a second — you have _no idea_ how human sex works?”

“I know it’s _disgusting_! That’s all I need to know!”

“Oh my fucking god, Zim. Why is this such a hang up for you?”

“You’ve been with me for a year!” Zim shouted. “Why is this _news_ to _you??”_

“I thought it was a cultural difference you’d eventually get over!”

“Maybe it’s a cultural difference _you_ should get over!” Zim countered. “Irkens don’t copulate! We have no reason to! I don’t even know if I’m supposed to have both of those … _things_ or if it’s just another way I’m an aberration!” Zim was fuming by this point. “Get it through your head, Dib; I’m broken. Broken in my society and broken in yours. As long as you expect things from me that I _cannot give you,_ you’re setting yourself up for a lifetime of disappointment.”

Dib was still holding him but had put a bit of space between their bodies.

“ _Yikes_ …” he muttered under his breath.

“Understatement of the century, _Dib_ ,” Zim spat.

They were still for a moment, Dib uncertain of what would calm Zim down, and Zim simmering quietly in his anger. Dib tried to mentally backtrack and figure out where he’d managed to go wrong. At no point had he read Zim as reluctant or fearful to him, and the revelation that Zim had been without him picking up on it freaked him out significantly. Unfortunately, fear made him angry and defensive.

“You … _really_ suck at taking care of me,” Zim murmured sadly, pulling Dib back to the present. 

Dib scoffed. “What do you call _this?_ ” he asked, holding Zim tight. He hadn’t pushed Zim away or refused him physical contact. That was worth something, right?

“I call it the bare fucking minimum,” Zim replied, miffed. “And I had to ask you for it!”

“You’re so hot and cold about being touched in general, how the hell am I supposed to know what you want at any given point??”

“You should be able to tell by now when I’m upset, Dib!”

“You know what, Zim? I’m really not sure what you want from me,” Dib said, releasing him and rolling passive-aggressively onto his other side. He crossed his arms and pulled his legs up to his chest. “Do you want me to be a mind reader? Or a psychic? Or both? Because it kinda sounds like you want me to be both and I’m just a regular fucking human, alright?”

“I want you to not leave me _freaked out_ and covered nastiness just because you want to jack off, and not look at me like a _science experiment_ when you’ve got me naked in front of you …” Zim trailed off sadly. “I need you to be more attentive to me and how I’m feeling and what I want.”

“I’m not going to turn into everything you want me to be overnight,” Dib muttered.

“It’s not just that …”

“Then what?

Zim hesitated. “Sometimes I’m not even sure you _love me_ , Dib,” he said reluctantly. “Sometimes I feel like I’m … something you _own_ and keep around to toy with and that’s it.”

Dib quietly wrapped his arms around himself. “That’s not true,” he finally murmured.

“Well it _feels like it is,_ and that’s a problem.”

Did whispered something so softly that Zim barely heard it at all.

“What?” Zim queried, antennae perked to hear better.

“I … look. I love you. I really do. But I _don’t know_ how to be someone who deserves you,” Dib replied at an audible level. He rolled over onto his stomach, putting his arms over his head. He loved and needed Zim and he wasn’t sure how to appropriately convey his feelings. Everything he did was too much or too little or inappropriate for the context and he could never seem to get anything right.

He was surprised to feel Zim move closer and lean against his body.

“It’s a really cruel paradox that I’m angry with you, but being held by you is the only thing that makes me feel any better,” Zim mumbled. “I’m mad but I _need you_ and it’s not fair.”

Dib cautiously unburied his head and looked over. The pain in Zim’s expression made his heart ache.

Zim nudged him onto his side, then cuddled against his chest. Dib closed his eyes and held him gently, not quite sure what to do about how good it felt just to be naked together. The feeling bubbled up wherever they touched and he pulled Zim closer just so more of their bodies touched. 

As they snuggled against each other, Dib was a little surprised to realize he wasn’t even turned on. Having this much uninhibited contact just satisfied some primal urge he couldn’t even name. It flooded into all the dark, unused corners of his senses and he wished they could just stay there forever; sad and confused, maybe, but taking solace in each other’s touch.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Dib said with uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I love you and I … I _need you too_ and I don’t know how to make you stay. I don’t know how to be better. I don’t know how to love you right.”

His fingers drew nervous little spirals over Zim’s skin as he bit his lip and stared off into the dark.

“Maybe there’s something really wrong with me,” he whispered. “Maybe I’m too broken for other people.”

“But you _do_ love me, yes?”

“Yes,” Dib said quietly. “That’s the one thing I'm sure of.”

“Alright. Then I’m not letting you off that easily,” Zim said resolutely.

“Huh?”

Zim looked up. “I don’t believe for a second that this is your personal best. I think you can do better. Otherwise I wouldn’t be on your case about it; I’d just leave.”

Dib held his gaze a moment, as if trying to discern something from it. “You really love me, huh?” he said, sounding almost confused.

“I do. And I want things to be good between us.”

Zim stretched out a bit more, running his toes down Dib’s leg and pressing their bellies together. “For what it’s worth, I like being close to you. And it means a lot when you go out of your way to give me physical comfort with no strings attached.” Zim nuzzled against Dib’s neck. “You don’t need to _make me stay._ I’m right here.”

“I don’t know how to fix things on my end …”

Zim sighed. “Slowly, and with better communication, I guess? Talk. Listen. Stay on top of yourself until new behaviors are muscle memory.”

“You’re going to have to call me out a lot,” Dib said nervously.

“And you’re going to have to be better about getting called out,” Zim replied.

“Okay,” Dib said softly, putting his chin on Zim’s head. He ran his fingers over Zim’s antennae, looking down curiously as Zim cuddled closer and purred. All of the yelling seemed to have externalized Zim’s anger, leaving him filled with only his affection for Dib. The thrum resonating from inside him vibrated through Dib’s entire body. “There’s a sound I don’t hear often,” Dib said with a small smile. 

“I’m happy you’re still mine,” Zim replied, rumbling contentedly against Dib’s chest.

Dib settled into a steady rhythm of stroking Zim’s antennae and lightly caressing the ends while his mind wandered.

“Where do you think we’ll be this time next year?” he asked suddenly. 

“A year’s a long time …” Zim murmured. “We’ll probably have gone all _domestic_ ; have our own house and jobs and some smeets to take care of.”

Dib looked down quizzically and was relieved to find Zim grinning up at him. “I’m just kidding about the jobs.”

“And you say I move too fast,” Dib joked lightheartedly. “Really, though.”

“In a year … I think we’ll be better than we are right now. Happier. Healthier.”

“You really think so?”

“Nah,” Zim said, kissing Dib’s neck, “I know so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Zim somehow managed to grimace with his entire body." Yes, I am aware that is called "cringing". You don't have to tell me. I know.
> 
> Zim is needy and manipulative but I feel like I can forgive him that because he has to put up with Dib. Oh, the joys of being upset with someone who you are ALSO terrified is going to leave you.


	2. Do Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fast-forward to spring break of their freshman year of college, and these lunatics are still somehow making it work.  
> *********************************************  
> Check me out on [Tumblr](https://starlitvesper.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter (18+ ONLY)](https://twitter.com/starlitvesper) for snippets, updates, ugly selfies and posts about my cats!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah this is still effectively backstory. We're gonna get there. I promise.

_You make me feel like I can't make it on my own.  
You make me jealous and I shouldn't be left alone.  
I can't remember who I was before me and you.  
I'm just a slave to the things you say and do. _

[ \- Superet, _YDS2M_ ](https://soundcloud.com/superettheband/yds2m)

* * *

_ [First year of college — spring break] _

_i._

“Ugh, Zim, this looks genuinely disgusting,” Dib said with a grimace, standing outside the façade of Shloogorgh's Flavor Monster. “Why are we here again?”

When Zim had said he wanted to spend their freshman year spring break exploring the galaxy, Dib had been hoping they’d eat somewhere with food that looked more palatable than Earth fast food and was at least half as clean. This checked neither of those boxes.

“We both need an actual meal and this is cheap and I’m already familiar with it. If you want to go eat more cheesy crackers and juice in the ship until I come back, be my guest,” Zim replied with a shrug. “But this is our last pit stop for a while.”

Dib deliberated for a moment. He was deathly tired of snack crackers and shelf-stable juice. But Zim had also refused to tell him what the fuck they were doing on the planet Zim had been previously banished to, and it made him nervous.

“Alright, fine, I’m coming with you,” Dib conceded. “But if you order me anything that’s still moving by the time the plate gets in front of me, I’m leaving you here.”

Dib was about to walk inside when Zim grabbed his arm. “You remember what I told you, right?”

Dib shook his arm free. “Yeah, yeah … don’t say your name. Irken-controlled space that you've decided to drag me into for some reason. I’ve got it.”

“And what are you going to call me instead? Hmm??” Zim asked, raising his eyebrows and grinning. Clearly no one was more impressed by Zim’s cleverness than Zim, himself. 

Dib sighed, taking in — for the millionth time — Zim’s square glasses, blue keffiyeh, and the borderline shameful fedora he wore over his wig. At least he’d finally started wearing normal human clothing at Dib’s behest, so he just looked like your average city hipster and not an Invader in a poor disguise like normal.

“If you make me call you that, I am breaking up with you. I’m not kidding. I will publicly leave you in front of the entire restaurant like some sort of terrible reverse proposal.”

“Lose the attitude, Dib. It’s not cute,” Zim said dismissively.

Dib snatched his hat and put it on his head as he sauntered into the restaurant. “Good thing _cute_ isn't what this relationship is predicated on, _Shminvader Shmim_.”

“Give me that back!” Zim yelled, bouncing at Dib’s heels. When did Dib get a solid foot and a half taller than him? That certainly wasn’t fair.

“But it’s my birthday and you didn’t even _get_ me anything,” Dib said with a mock pout.

“ _Yes_ , I did!” Zim insisted, finally snatching his hat back. “Just because you haven’t _seen it yet —.”_

“What? Doesn’t mean you haven’t bought it yet?” Dib said with a knowing smile. “I would have hoped you’d have learned your lesson from last year. When it took you … was it two weeks to finally get me a cake?”

“And you haven’t let a day go by that you don’t remind me of it.”

“Yeah, because I thought you’d learned your lesson for this year.”

“I … ugh. Dib, trust me. When I finally give it to you, you’re gonna go _nuts_ . But I am _waiting_ for the right time.”

There was already a sizable line up to the counter, and Dib took a moment to survey the place for anything that looked moderately appetizing.

“I’m seeing a lot of things wiggling on plates,” he said, sounding disappointed. He squinted at the sign up front and hoped that intergalactic multiculturalism might mean there would be something that he found both recognizable and edible. “Wait … am I reading those right? They serve fries and taquitos?”

“Somebody’s been practicing their Irken,” Zim said, seeming genuinely impressed.

“My birthday surprise to you,” Dib said with a chaste peck on Zim’s cheek. When he looked up, something on the wall abruptly caught his attention. Mainly because it was so absurd he was initially positive he’d imagined it.

“I don’t think that’s how those work. I’m pretty sure you’ve got it backwards.”

Zim looked up and realized that Dib was suddenly staring, transfixed, over the top of his head. He watched Dib mouth the words _What the fuck???_ before glancing down at Zim and then back up.

“Are you _completely_ insane?” Dib hissed at him, still looking behind him.

“What? Me?” Zim asked, bewildered. 

Dib took him by the shoulders and spun him around. Hanging on the wall near the order counter was an unmistakable photo of Zim with text reading “Have you seen this Irken?” and Zim’s name and appearance information below.

“There’s a bounty on your head and everything,” Dib said through gritted teeth as the line moved forward. “What the fuck are we even _doing here_ ? I knew you were banished to this planet but this _restaurant?_ This _exact_ restaurant?”

“Dib, we can talk about this later …”

“What? _No_. We need to—”

“Welcome to Shloogorgh's!” squawked the Irken behind the register. Dib jumped and then clamped his mouth shut upon realizing they’d hit the front of the line.

“My name is Gashloog! May I — hey, do I know you?” He peered down at Zim.

“Oh, he’s just got one of those faces!” Dib said hurriedly.

Inside, he was panicking. Well, outside, he was panicking, too. He hoped he wasn’t exuding as much nervous energy as he felt. He was a terrible liar and a nervous talker and any situation which required lying and also made him nervous tended to render him completely useless, if not a complete liability. Zim, meanwhile, instantly got into character. 

“Excuse my friend. You probably recognize me from my latest work at the gallery,” he said with a haughty expression as Dib resisted the urge facepalm beside him. The nicest thing Dib had to say about the whole getup was that, for an Irken, it wasn’t a terrible disguise.

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” Gashloog replied with a strange look. “I feel like I see you every day or something …”

“Funny how that happens,” Dib said with a nervous laugh.

“Dib, remember that thing I asked you to look up for me?” Zim asked pointedly. 

“Whu—”

“ _Sure_ you do. Why don’t you grab us a table and we can _discuss it when I’m done here?_ ”

Dib was about to argue when Zim shot him a severe look.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But remember what I said about wiggly things.”

“Buy you every one of them on the menu, right?” Zim called after him. Dib just flipped him off over his shoulder and made his way to a moderately clean table. He grabbed a napkin and brushed some crumbs of indeterminate origin off the seat before sitting down and watching Zim, who was still making smalltalk with the Irken behind the counter. It looked like he actually had a handle on the situation and Dib started to feel like, of the two of them, Dib’s intense staring was likely the more suspicious than anything Zim was doing. He busied himself with trying to find a source of free wifi until Zim finally headed over in his direction.

“I got it to go,” Zim said as he sat down next to Dib. “We can get out of here and eat on the ship.”

“Thanks,” Dib murmured. He tried to decide how he was feeling, finally decided on “relieved with a heaping side of irritated”, and gave Zim a scathing look. “What the hell were you thinking, coming here in the first place? And bringing me along for the ride??”

“I … don’t know,” Zim admitted, deflating a bit. “I guess I thought I’d show off how clever I am and then we’d gloat about it afterwards.”

Dib reached for his hand. “I already think you’re clever. But this … _this_ is dumb as hell. From what you’ve told me, pissing off Irkens is a great way to ruin your entire day.”

“And yet you go out of your way to piss me off all the time.”

“I’m _serious_ right now.”

Zim leaned against him, clearly feeling remorse. “I know. I shouldn’t have brought you anywhere near this stupid planet. It’s your birthday and the only person I was thinking about was me. I’m sorry.”

Dib stared at him, surprised. “Wow … I’m actually impressed. That was a real apology and everything.”

“Well, I feel real _bad_ , so …” Zim shrugged sadly.

Dib gave him an awkward side hug. “Consider it forgiven. So long as we make it out of here in one piece.”

“Don’t worry —they think I’m a human,” Zim said with a dismissive hand wave. “I’m so good at disguises, I can even fool other Irkens.”

“Clever boy,” Dib said with a patronizing head pat that—thankfully—seemed to fly under Zim’s radar.

“I feel like I should still make it up to you, though. Seeing as it’s your birthday and I not only put you in danger, I brought you to one of the most mediocre restaurants around. It doesn’t even have the dignity to be awful. It’s just … painfully _meh_.”

“Keep talking. I’m listening.”

“I’ll take you wherever you want after we get out of here.”

“Somewhere with cake that’s as far out of Irken-controlled space as possible.”

“I’ve got a take-out order for a … Shminvader Shmim?” A different Irken was standing in the middle of the restaurant. Zim jumped up to get their food from him and Dib was quick on his heels.

“That’s ours! Thanks,” he said, snatching it and heading for the door.

“That’s a really interesting name!” the Irken called after them.

“Yeah, um, thanks. It’s a family name,” Zim replied over his shoulder.

He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going and Dib watched in horror as a child in one of the booths dropped an entire drink right in his path.

“Zim! Lookout!” 

Dib realized what he had done the moment Zim’s name left his mouth. But all he could do was watch in horror as Zim slipped and went flying, landing hard enough to knock his glasses and wig off completely. The whole restaurant went silent and Dib realized in horror that everyone was looking at them.

“ _Zim??_ ” Gashloog yelled from behind the counter. “Did he just say _Zim???_ ”

Dib edged towards Zim as another, much larger, Irken suddenly appeared from the kitchen.

“Grab him, you morons!!” he shouted, and Gashloog quickly vaulted the counter as the Irken who had brought their food over finally came to his senses as well.

“Run!” Zim shouted. Dib really didn’t need to be told twice. He sprinted for the exit and out onto the street, looking back just in time to see Zim scurrying towards him on his PAK legs. Blaster fire echoed from somewhere behind him just as Zim scooped him up, holding him under his arms.

“You’ve gotta help me a little here!” Zim grunted, trying to hold Dib up as he rapidly changed direction around the side of the complex. Dib hung like dead weight from Zim’s arms as they scaled the wall of the building. Zim hefted him up and suddenly registered the warm, wet spot on the front of Dib’s shirt. He looked down and almost tumbled back down to the street. There was a sizable hole in the front of Dib’s shirt and blood had already soaked through most of the fabric. Zim swung Dib up and caught him so he could carry him horizontally. 

“Dib!!” he shouted, hoping for any reaction at all. He felt his insides ice over when none came. There was nothing he could do now but race towards the ship and hope they made it there in time.

He reached the top of the building and began vaulting towards where the ship was parked when something tripped him. He stumbled and curled around Dib as the legs encircled them and they rolled for a short distance. Zim finally got his feet under him and looked around.

Sizz-lorr was standing on the far side of the roof.

“You’ve got some nerve showing up at my restaurant, Zim!” he growled.

“You broke my human!!” Zim screeched. 

“Maybe he should have thought a little harder before getting involved with a criminal.”

“Just back off and let me get him help. None of this is his fault!”

“Oh, no. You’re coming back with me. I’m not letting you slip through my fingers a third time.”

“You can’t discharge a blaster around civilians,” Zim said in a measured tone. “It’s a direct violation of code 4591 section Alpha. You injured a civilian and when the Tallest hear of this, you’ll be lucky if all they do is strip you of your title.”

Sizz-lorr laughed. “And who’s gonna tell them? _You_? They don’t care what happens to you or your little lower-life form pet.”

Zim knew that. It had been worth a try, at least, but now they were just frittering away seconds that Zim couldn’t get back. 

“I don’t have time for this,” Zim said under his breath. Every second spent bantering was a second closer to Dib’s death. He turned and sprinted towards the edge of the building, running until the ground dropped away and he went into free fall. Sizz-Lorr shouted from above him but all Zim could do now was try and put as much space as possible between them and hope to lose him on the busy streets below. For once, Zim was grateful for his small stature; being hardly over 4 feet tall and limber meant that, even laden, he could still move at a faster clip than the much taller and burlier Sizz-Lorr.

Zim’s trajectory brought him terrifyingly close to the next building over. He held Dib close as he used his PAK legs to dig into the siding and slow their descent, landing softly on the street below. He sprinted into the crowd and slowed to normal walking speed.

“Zim?”

He looked down and almost fell to his knees. Dib’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, but open. Zim pressed his face against Dib’s neck.

“Oh thank Irk … you’re still alive,” Zim murmured, sounding on the verge of tears.

“I’d rather not thank Irk, seeing as it was an Irken who shot me,” Dib said breathlessly.

“You’re well enough to joke — that’s a good sign,” Zim said as he forced a smile. 

There were no good signs. So much of Dib’s blood was sleeping into his clothes and Dib looked paler than the moon. If they didn’t get back to the ship soon … Zim didn’t want to think about that.

“We’re almost there,” he said softly. “Just stay with me until I can get you on the ship. You’re gonna be fine …”

“It barely even hurts,” Dib said with a weak smile. 

“That’s good.”

It really wasn’t.

Zim wanted to stop and just hold his Dib for a minute because he wasn’t sure how much time he had before Dib slipped unconscious for a final time, but he could see their ship now and he was counting down the seconds, forcing his feet to walk at a normal pace that wouldn’t get them spotted.

“Just hold on, Dib,” Zim whispered. “As soon as we’re on the ship, I can fix you.”

“I feel okay, Zim. Really,” Dib said softly, eyelids fluttering. “I don’t feel a thing …”

Unbridled panic suddenly took hold and Zim’s PAK legs vaulted them the rest of the way to the ship. As they got closer, the door to the cockpit opened so slowly Zim wanted to scream. He cradled Dib close and squeezed underneath it.

There was a sudden, “There you are!!” from behind him as they ducked inside. 

“Computer!! Auto pilot mode! Back to Earth and get us the fuck off this planet as fast as possible!”

“Local takeoff speeds are —”

“ _Disregard them!_ ” Zim screeched, laying Dib on the floor. “ _As fast as possible!_ ”

The ship jolted upwards, and Zim looked outside just long enough to watch the pursuing Fry Lord shrink from view. He allowed himself to feel relieved for a moment before focusing back on Dib, who was lying unnervingly still on the floor. Zim watched until the smallest flutter of a breath shuddered under his ribs. Reassured — for the moment — that Dib was still alive, Zim sprinted to the bedroom and rifled through the closet, throwing things aside.

“Where is it??”

He finally located the box he’d hidden Dib’s birthday present in and sprinted back to Dib’s side. He pulled out a small, handheld device and loaded it up with a vial.

“Alright, you’re going to get your birthday gift a little early,” Zim said softly, voice shaking. “Not the way I wanted to give it to you, but—”

Tears clouded Zim’s vision and he angrily wiped them away. He held Dib’s hand and pressed the device to Dib’s upper arm before pulling the trigger. Zim watched with bated breath as the vial emptied. He felt Dib’s grip on his hand go slack and his panic reached a fever pitch.

“Oh no no no …” He leaned over to listed for Dib’s heartbeat but heard nothing.

Only one option flashed in his mind. He reached behind his own back as his PAK disconnected, then put the device on Dib’s stomach. He stepped back, waiting for the nano cables to work their way under Dib’s skin. It might have been a fraction of a second faster to flip Dib over and attach it to his spine, but Zim didn’t want to risk injuring Dib further. It took mere seconds for everything to connect and suddenly his PAK lit up red as a jolt of electricity coursed through Dib’s body. His muscles contracted briefly before going slack again.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion in the moments that followed. Dib still looked terrifyingly pale and still and Zim couldn’t even take a breath himself. He was about to cautiously check for any sign of life when Dib suddenly groaned and shifted uncomfortably.

Zim fell to his knees. “It worked … it actually worked …”

“What worked?” Dib mumbled.

“You. Being alive and everything!” Zim kissed him on the forehead. 

“Ow, Zim … everything hurts,” Dib moaned hoarsely.

“That’s good!” Zim chirped, sitting back. “Means you’re not dying anymore.”

Zim’s PAK abruptly released Dib, raised itself upwards, and reaffixed itself to Zim’s spine. Dib made a valiant attempt to scrambled backwards in terror before the damage to his muscles and internal structures became all too evident. He slumped back against the floor with a sharp cry, breathing heavily.

“What the fresh fuck was that??” he demanded, wincing.

Zim had already scampered to the cockpit to grab the first aid kit and back to Dib’s side by the time he’d finished the sentence.

“I used my PAK to revive you,” Zim said, as if it weren’t a big deal. He hoped that if it sounded innocuous enough, Dib might be out of it enough to drop the topic.

“I’m sorry … _what??_ ” Dib sputtered breathlessly. 

While Dib was busy short circuiting, Zim dug in the box for a bottle of pills, shook one out and put it under Dib’s tongue while his mouth was still hanging open. “Let that dissolve.”

Dib looked torn between spitting it back out at Zim and taking anything and everything within reach that would lessen the searing pain in his ribs. “Why does it taste like cocoa powder?” he grudgingly asked.

“It’s an Irken Army issue painkiller. What do you expect?” Zim asked as he tore open a package and pulled out what looked like an opaque, rubbery sheet. “These things leave the worst scars, but it’ll stop the bleeding and regrow all your injured tissues so we’re just gonna have to deal right now. Hold tight.”

He ripped open Dib’s shirt to expose the wound.

“Was that _really_ necessary??” Dib asked, louder now and with obvious irritation. That really _was_ a good sign.

“Can you lift your arms above your head?” Zim asked pointedly as he applied the rubbery material to Dib’s skin. 

Dib attempted to move his arms upwards and abruptly shrunk back into himself in pain.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Zim replied. “Okay, I’m gonna roll you on your side and then I need you to stay still. One, two—”

It was a dirty trick, but like a doctor resetting a dislocated joint, he didn’t wait for ‘three’.

“Ow!!! Shit, that fucking hurts!”

Zim was starting to think he should have patched Dib up before resuscitating him. He was working as fast as he could, smoothing out the wrinkles in the material and making sure it had properly affixed. “Just breathe and count down from ten. I’m almost done.”

Dib started counting through gritted teeth.

“These things work better when there’s a lot of blood,” Zim rambled. “They’re made for quick-and-dirty battlefield wound repair. They fuse to your skin and then work their way downwards to regrow everything that was damaged.” He ran his finger along the edge to make sure it had sealed properly. “Okay. Done. Hold tight,” he said as he flipped Dib back over. Dib had some colorful things to say about that.

“I’m so sorry,” Zim whispered as Dib lay panting in front of him.

“It was over quickly enough,” Dib croaked back, still in obvious pain.

Zim reached for his hand, blood making his fingers slick. “I mean I’m sorry you got shot. It was completely my fault. I put you in danger without even thinking and you could have … I thought you were …”

He gave a shaky breath and tried to swallow his tears. Dib squeezed his hand. “Don’t cry … I can’t rip you a new one over almost getting me murdered when you’re crying.”

Zim bit his lip to keep it from trembling, then fully turned away.

“Well, shit,” Dib said under his breath. “Zim … I don’t want to fight with you. All of that was insane and I never want to see that planet again. But I’m just happy to be alive right now. Because I really thought I was dying for a moment there.”

Zim rubbed his face on his sleeve a moment before turning around. A stray tear rolled down his cheek and landed on Dib’s stomach, making a small splash of pink in a sea of dark red. 

“I thought I lost you,” Zim said quietly, rubbing Dib’s hand with his thumb. “You went still for a second and I thought that was it.”

Dib suddenly got a curious look and peered at Zim. “What did you inject me with? Right before I blacked out. I couldn’t understand what you were saying, but you definitely injected me with something and it clearly wasn’t painkillers.”

“I …” Zim’s voice still sounded choked up. “Don’t be upset … I really wanted to get your consent before I did this … I didn’t want it to happen this way …”

“Oh no … _Zim … What did you do?_ ” Dib groaned.

“I … I merged your DNA with Irken DNA. More specifically … with mine ...”

Dib’s eyes went wide.

“I made this serum to modify your genes and I was saving it as a surprise because I know how much you worry about our different lifespans and I always worry about how delicate you are … I was going to get your permission but Irken DNA has a stronger healing factor and you were almost dead so I thought this was the only way to bring you back and …”

Dib opened his mouth but no sound came out. 

“... Happy birthday?” Zim said hopefully.

_ii._

“So I’m not gonna turn green?” Dib asked through a mouthful of sandwich. Since Zim had left their food on the floor of Shloogorgh's, they were forced to make due with the limited resources they’d packed into the mini fridge.

“For the last time,” Zim said, exasperated, “you’re not even going to be able to _see_ the difference. You’ll just live longer and heal faster and age a lot slower.”

“And I can wear your PAK?”

Zim’s eyes narrowed. “It clearly works in the short term but I’m not sure I want to experiment with long term …”

“You don’t want to experience sharing a body?” Dib said with a smile that made Zim shrink back a bit.

“We haven’t even had sex, Dib. What the fuck do you think?”

“We can change that part easily enough,” Dib said, leaning over the table.

Zim put a hand on his forehead and pushed him back into his seat. “Those painkillers I gave you lower your inhibitions. We’re not doing anything as long as you’re … loopy.”

“I’m not _loopy_. I’m fine.”

“Really? Because five minutes ago you were _begging_ me to ask you how long you’d been 17.”

“I forgot it was my birthday,” Dib said innocently.

“Did you forget that you'd had _two_ since then?”

"No, but I did forget to tell you that you should have played _Immortals_ when you broke the news."

"Ugh ..."

"You have no sense for dramatic reveals, Zim. I'd call it your biggest weakness. Anyway. It's a pity. Not being able to make that joke for the rest of eternity. Or whatever. How long do your people live? Actually, hey, how old are _you_? Because I always thought—”

“Holy shit, Dib; _breathe_ ,” Zim grumbled, rubbing the sides of his head. Loopy-Dib was giving him a headache. 

Dib split the difference by inhaling the rest of his sandwich. “These are important questions, Zim,” he mumbled through his food.

“Yeah, and I’m _sure_ you’ll still think that in the morning,” Zim said irritably. 

“Depends on how many more of those painkillers you’re willing to give me,” Dib said, resting his head on his hand.

“You seem well enough to shower,” Zim said, steering the topic of conversation in a different direction. “Go clean off and then try to sleep for a bit. You’ll heal faster if you rest.”

Dib made a face but stood up. He was shirtless and still covered in dried blood, looking less pale than he had earlier but still not quite back to normal. He reached for Zim’s hand.

“Sorry,” he said, much more quiet and serious than a moment ago. “I think I’m high on … well, I guess a lot of things. But ‘not dying’ is pretty far up there. When I’m not a disgusting mess, will you keep me company in bed?”

“Yeah,” Zim said, looking down at their hands. They both had blood under their nails.

Dib kissed his forehead and headed towards the back of the ship. Once he was out of view, Zim slumped in his seat. 

He hoped he’d done the right thing. He could have reached for the first aid kit before anything else, but the possibility that Dib would have been a goner at that point was too high for his own comfort. Dib didn’t seem bothered by the news that he now shared part of Zim’s genetic signature nor by the large hole in his chest, but Dib was also blitzed out of his mind on painkillers that could easily pacify a Snarl Beast.

It had been Dib’s long-standing worry about their disparate lifespans and Zim’s constant concern that Dib would end up dead on one of their adventures that finally pushed Zim to develop something to modify Dib’s genetic code. If he was being truly honest with himself, he was also thoroughly enamored by the idea of Dib containing some part of him, of his DNA changing Dib enough that there were some things that only the two of them had in common. It marked Dib as both _other_ and _his_ and satisfied some greedy urge down in the depths of his brain.

A sudden clatter from the bathroom made him jump up and spring across the room.

“I’m fine— I fell but I’m alright,” came Dib’s voice from behind the door.

Zim tossed it open to see Dib leaning against the wall.

“Ohhh my god Zim, would it kill you to knock?” Dib grumbled.

Zim was already pulling his own blood-soaked clothes off. “Clearly I was an idiot for letting you out of my sight when you’ve lost so much blood. Not to mention, you really shouldn’t be moving your arms so much. I keep forgetting that just because you _can_ really doesn’t mean that you _should_. At least until all your muscles grow back completely.” He climbed in beside Dib, who was leaning as far away as possible.

“What are you doing?” Zim asked, taking the washcloth from him.

“Being conscious of the fact that I'm a mess ..."

“Yeah, you’re disgusting,” Zim agreed, gently scrubbing Dib’s back. “But you’re mine and I’m responsible for this whole mess. The literal and the metaphorical mess …”

Dib closed his eyes and decided it was easiest to just let Zim have his way. It felt kind of nice to just be able to relax under the hot water and let someone else take care of him. Especially when the ground hadn't felt solid under his feet since before he'd gotten shot.

“You’ll be back to normal before too long,” Zim said softly as he carefully lifted Dib’s arm to wash under it. “Much faster than you’re used to. But you’re going to be very sore for the next couple days, at least. We can stay on top of the pain but you’re going to need to avoid doing anything too stupid.”

“How hard could that be?” Dib asked with a slight smile.

Once Zim had Dib cleaned to his specifications, they dried off and curled up in the bed that took up the back half of the ship. The entire vessel was really no more than a space-faring RV that had taken the two of them several months to put together. It was still on the cramped side, as far as living spaces went, but the two of them rarely occupied more than a few square feet of space between them. 

Zim lay snuggled up against Dib’s chest, gently running his fingers over where the emergency tissue regrowth sheets had fused to his skin.

“This scar is going to be a little … gnarly,” Zim said with a concerned look. “I wish I could have done a better job of patching you up.”

“Stop beating yourself up over everything,” Dib told him. “I feel better than ever. And it’s not like you _personally_ shot me.”

“You only feel this good because of the painkillers,” Zim replied morosely. “You’re going to wake up tomorrow morning and hate my guts for landing you with a hole through yours.”

“Then just stay on top of the painkillers,” Dib said with a grin. Zim didn’t seem amused, though, so Dib switched tactics and cuddled him close. “This is the least boring birthday I’ve ever had,” he said, kissing Zim squarely between his eyes. “And one of the only years I’ve gotten a thoughtful present. I still haven’t had time to fully process the implications but … now I don’t have to worry about who you’ll replace me with in 50 years.”

Zim looked up, antennae back against his head in irritation. “I never would have _replaced_ you, Dib. I would have just been lonely for the rest of my life.”

“Well, hopefully a lifetime with me isn’t worse than that. Seeing as I can’t seem to say anything right today.” He curled his body around Zim’s and gently stroked his cheek. “I’m not gonna hate you tomorrow, Zim. Alright? I promise.”

“You can’t promise not to have an _emotion_ …”

“I can promise I forgive you right now, though.”

Zim gave him a searching look, then tucked his head back under Dib’s chin. “What I did was so nonsensical and _blatantly_ ill-advised that _I_ can’t even forgive me right now. You could have easily died today. And I may have just given Sizz-Lorr an excuse to try and hunt me down again. Which is the _second_ to last thing I want …” He made a frustrated noise. “As much as I keep thinking I’ve grown up a lot these last few years, I keep proving myself wrong.”

“Zim?”

“I don’t even know why I _do things_ sometimes!”

“Zim…”

“Ugh … What?”

Dib gently stroked Zim’s antennae, making Zim abruptly relax against him, purring softly despite himself. “I love you, you silly bug,” Dib whispered to him. “I love you and you’re wholly forgiven so can we just … move past it? I have a cool scar now … oh, wait, _two cool scars_ … heh, neat. And also I’m like 50% _you_ and that’s also pretty cool.” Dib suddenly looked spacey.

“Wow, those drugs are hitting you hard."

“No … I’m just thinking about having you in me. Or maybe me in you … ya know?” He was smiling but his eyes looked unfocused.

Zim moved away. “Ooookay, I’m putting you to sleep, effective immediately. You are _officially_ too loopy to function.”

Dib dragged him back over. “Come on, Zim! We’ve been together nearly two years and the most we do is naked kissing and dry humping and I … I’m ready for _more_.”

“Good for you; I’m _not_ ,” Zim shot back, turning away. “Not to mention … you’re _on actual drugs right now_ and even if I _wasn’t_ from the most sexually repressed race in the galaxy, there’s no way in hell I’d feel like I wasn’t _taking advantage of you._ ”

“Oh, come on!” Dib groaned. “I’m _fine_ . Is it really taking advantage of me if _I’m the one_ making the first move?” He went to reach between Zim’s legs and Zim evasively rolled his way out of Dib’s arms and off the edge of the bed.

“Alright, that’s it, Dib!” Zim shouted, embarrassed and frazzled and angry. Dib just looked confused. “I love you, I really do. And I’m _ecstatic_ that you’re alive,” he said evenly, “but I’m sleeping on the couch. _At least_ until you get all of your mental faculties back. We’re not having a repeat of last year. This is just getting _stupid_.”

Before Dib could say anything, Zim was out of the room and had shut the door behind him. Zim quickly made it to the couch in a handful of long, irritated strides and flopped down angrily, unfolding the blanket that hung over the back and wrapping himself in it. The day had left him completely emotionally exhausted and all he really wanted to do was fall asleep in Dib’s arms. But there was no way he could comfortably do that when he was moderately certain he’d be rudely awoken to dicks being shoved where he wasn’t too keen on dicks being.

He pulled the blanket over his head and faced the back of the couch. Hopefully the morning would find Dib back to his usual self.

_iii._

“Zim, are you awake?”

Zim groaned and pressed his face into the pillow. “It’s still dark. Leave me alone,” he grouched, half asleep.

“It’s … space. It’s kind of _always_ dark.”

Oh. So it was. How had he forgotten where they were?

The couch sunk under Dib’s weight and Zim tensed as Dib put a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't forgotten why he was sleeping somewhere other than the bedroom.

“I’m sorry … you’ve only been out here for a couple hours but I … wanted to see if you’d come back to bed with me. I hate having this much space between us. I don’t even know when I stopped being able to sleep without you, but … well, I can’t sleep without you.”

Zim finally turned to face him. Dib was staring off at nothing, looking morose.

“I’m really sorry for what I did,” he said softly. “The more I think about it, the less okay it seems.”

"It wasn't okay _at all_."

"At this point, you can safely assume I've realized that," Dib said with a sigh. "I fucked up. I'm sorry. I just don't want to sleep alone right now. It's a shitty way to end my birthday, even if I probably deserve it."

"Ugh, I'm too tired to sling blame right now." Zim sat up, throwing off his blanket cocoon. “Let’s just get you back to bed.”

He was relieved that this nonsense didn’t have to go on a second longer. He also hated having that amount of space between the two of them. Sometimes it freaked him out a little, how much he seemed to need his human. He could pretend that past actions like syncing up their high school class schedules or sneaking in Dib’s window so they could sleep together was for Dib’s benefit … but Zim felt anxiety swirl in his guts every time they were more than a few feet apart for longer than a couple minutes. The past two semesters at college hadn't really mitigated that, seeing as they spent every waking hour (and most sleeping hours) together.

As Dib got back into bed and pulled the covers back, Zim quickly climbed up and snuggled against his chest, antennae pressed against his heart. Dib pulled the blanket around them both and hugged Zim close, gently kissing the top of his head.

“Thank you for not holding a grudge,” he whispered.

“I feel like I owe you,” Zim replied, “for not holding one against me. And also it … it sucks, sleeping separately. I’d really rather be here.”

He looked up and Dib’s lips met his, softly at first, before they pressed against each other and kissed properly. Zim ran the tip of his tongue along the edges of Dib’s slightly open mouth, enjoying the way Dib’s breath caught in his throat momentarily before his breathing suddenly grew faster. While Zim still had no idea how to even go about having sex, he _did_ fancy himself quite the kisser at this point. As much as he’d initially found it disgusting, he loved how it meant all of Dib’s attention was on _him_ and no one else. It kept Dib wanting him.

He hoped Dib hadn't yet realized how turned on all this was making him. Dib was usually more than happy to let Zim straddle his leg and rub one out, but Zim thought that might be in bad taste, given their earlier fight. It briefly crossed his mind to just let Dib have sex with him; get it over with and if it was awful ... well, Dib was pretty drugged up anyways. It was debatable whether or not he'd even remember it. 

Zim leaned back and Dib’s eyes remained closed for a second before opening when Zim didn’t lean back in.

“What’s wrong?” Dib asked with palpable concern.

“I was just wondering … if you still wanted to have sex with me,” Zim said quietly.

“Don’t worry … I’m not going to pressure you anymore,” Dib assured him gently. “If you want to just get off the normal way, that’s fine.”

Zim squeezed his eyes shut and rested his head against Dib’s chest. “No, if you still want to … let’s try it.”

Dib slid his hand down Zim’s back, noting how tense he felt. “I’m not an expert in the field of consent or anything … but you really don’t seem that into this. Look, I’m sorry if I made you think we had to do this. We don’t. I was being stupid.”

Zim felt like his insides were all trying to trade places. The idea of Dib being inside him skeeved him out to no end. But much like with kissing, the idea of making Dib _physically need him_ was like a drug. He would do anything that made Dib love him more, anything that made Dib _need_ him more. If he could be the only one who could give Dib what he wanted … well, all the better.

Even after two years, he lived in fear of Dib deciding Zim wasn’t what he wanted. Zim wanted a life-long mate ( _if and only if_ that mate was Dib) and Dib was often flakey and inconsistent and it made Zim a perpetual nervous wreck about the future of their relationship. He just needed to be sure that Dib would stay with him. No amount of Dib verbally reassuring him that this was the case would do, of course. Zim needed to know that he had his hooks in Dib in a way that no one else did. His feelings for Dib were selfish and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be disturbed by that fact. 

“I want you to be happy …” he whispered. _But only if I'm the one making you happy ..._

And if that meant he had to bite his tongue and mentally go elsewhere for the next ten minutes, then so be it.

“I really want this,” Dib breathed, low and hot against Zim's skin. “Just say the word and I’ll stop, but otherwise …”

Zim tried not to recoil as the tip of Dib’s cock gently pressed between his legs. 

He wanted to say no, but more than that, he wanted Dib to love him and need him. He longed for Dib to hold him close and stroke his antennae and whisper how _good_ Zim was and how _good_ he felt and how no human could ever be all the wonderful and perfect and _gorgeous_ things that Zim was. That would make this all worth it.

He pressed close to Dib’s chest and tried to lose himself in the resounding bass that was Dib’s frantic heartbeat. He felt it skip a beat as Dib gently pressed upwards, and he wondered how he could be so wet when he was so incredibly nervous. It seemed unfair that even as his brain was screaming _no, no, no!!!,_ he could feel his juices sluicing down Dib’s cock and pooling between their bodies.

Dib moaned and suddenly thrust his hips against Zim’s. Everything thereafter happened so fast that Zim wasn’t even consciously aware of his actions. The next thing he knew, he was suspended on top of Dib, with his PAK legs through Dib’s forearms which were pinned to either side of his head. 

Dib took a long look at where the metal sunk into his soft skin and then fixed Zim with a bewildered look. 

“Dude … what the fuck???”

_iv._

Zim pulled the spare comforter onto the bed as Dib lay curled up and sleeping soundly, his arms wrapped from wrist to elbow in bandages. Zim had managed to patch the two additional holes he’d put in Dib but the blankets had been a bit of a casualty. After knocking Dib out with two more painkillers, Zim tried to clean things up as best he could while Dib was dead to the world. He pulled the blanket over both of them, then snuggled up against Dib’s back, feeling lost and bewildered.

Why couldn’t he give Dib this one thing? Why did it have to be so difficult?? He just wanted to lay down his defenses and let Dib take what he wanted but that clearly wasn’t going to happen.

He pressed his face between Dib’s shoulder blades, trying to quell the stream of tears that threatened to spill out. Dib stirred, mumbled something, then rolled over when he realized Zim wasn’t in front of him. He tossed an arm over Zim and cuddled him close. Zim trembled in his arms.

Dib opened his eyes, looking groggy. “What’s wrong?” he mumbled. Even as blitzed as he was on drugs, he still managed to seem concerned.

“Nothing’s wrong; go back to sleep,” Zim said softly, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray the tears he was holding back.

Dib reached up and ran a shaking antenna through his fingers. “You’re clearly not okay …”

Zim hid his face in Dib’s shirt, wanting to disappear. “I just wanted to make you _happy_ ,” he said, barely audible. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt …”

Dib sighed and held him tightly. “I knew you didn’t want to, but I went ahead and did it anyway. I feel really gross about it and I don’t blame you for freaking out.”

Dib stroked his antennae reassuringly, gently thumbing the tips, while Zim took shaky breaths against his chest. 

“I just want you to love me …” Zim murmured under his breath.

“What did you just say?” Dib asked, sounding concerned.

Zim squeezed his eyes shut. “I just … wanted you to … to love me …” 

“What? Zim …” Dib kissed the top of his head. “I already love you. What the hell are you even talking about?”

“You’ve been frustrated with me,” Zim countered miserably.

“I'm sorry about what I said earlier. These drugs are knocking me for a helluva loop. I’m sorry if I gave you a complex about this but it’s really nothing to worry about. I promise.”

"You seem awfully lucid right now ..."

"Call it a moment of clarity. Regardless ... I was wrong."

“So you _haven’t_ been frustrated with me for not having sex with you?” Zim asked harshly.

When Dib looked down, Zim’s lip was trembling. “Zim …”

“Just say it,” Zim whispered. “Say you haven’t been frustrated with me.”

Dib gave Zim a pained expression and Zim turned away, curling into himself.

“I _knew it_. And I tried but I can’t do this one thing for you …!”

He wasn’t crying … _of course_ he wasn’t crying. That would be stupid. Stupid to cry over something as _human_ as _emotions_. Stupid to cry over the fact that Dib still hadn’t reached out to pull him close and stupid to cry over how much he wanted Dib to sit and whisper gentle reassurance for the next hour.

“I’ve been frustrated,” Dib admitted. “But that’s not your fault. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like it was.”

“Maybe you should just find someone with less hang ups,” Zim said darkly. “I bet you’d be happier.”

Dib sighed, soft and melancholy. “Would you come back here, please?”

“No.” Zim curled in tighter.

“Is it because you’re crying or because you’re mad at me?”

“I’m not crying,” Zim snapped defensively.

Behind him, Dib gingerly moved to close the space between them. He put a hand on Zim’s shoulder and wrapped his body around him.

“Look,” Dib said gently, “If I ever left you … it would be a 'Mutually Assured Destruction' scenario. I haven’t ever met a human I wanted to date or have sex with or anything. It’s not about having sex in the general sense, anyway … it’s about having sex with you.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but that is _clearly_ not happening!” Zim yelled, wiping his face angrily. “I thought I could just give you this but I’ve got too many defenses up. I tried! I really tried …” his voice broke and he hid his face behind his hand. “I tried so hard for you, Dib!!”

Zim burst into tears, feeling idiotic. It didn’t help that Dib initially recoiled in surprise. Zim felt his whole body shake as he surrendered to the confusion and frustration assaulting his brain. A second later, Dib was scooping him up into his lap, holding him securely and softly stroking his cheek.

“I know you did,” Dib said gently as he rested his head against Zim’s. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I’m waiting around for something from you. I meant that I’m not going to leave you just so I can have sex.”

Zim hiccuped balefully against Dib’s chest. “Tell me we’re going to be okay …”

“Of course we’re gonna be okay,” Dib said with a kiss. “We have the rest of forever to get this right. And there’s no one I’d rather spend forever with.”

This seemed to make Zim start sobbing all over again and Dib hoped that he hadn’t just massively fucked things up. All he could do was hold Zim close and whisper soft reassurance to him; heartfelt It’s-going-to-be-okay’s and I’ve-got-you’s that slowly seemed to calm Zim back down until the only sound was that of his shaky breaths exhaled against Dib’s skin.

“Did I do the right thing?” Zim asked, his voice high and cracking. “Making you … like me?”

“You did,” Dib replied without hesitation. When Zim looked away, Dib reached down to his chin and gently put a finger under it. “Hey … you really did. I would have said yes in an instant if the day had allowed for it.”

Zim pressed his face against Dib’s shirt, letting Dib hold him close and lightly rub his back. He listened as Dib’s heart thudded in his chest and his breathing gradually slowed until his body relaxed and he was undeniably asleep again. It was a miracle he'd been conscious for any amount of time, really.

Zim still felt sad and confused and it made him want to isolate himself for a while, even if it was the least logical reaction. He moved to extricate himself but the minute he pulled away, Dib held him closer. Zim looked up and, despite the fact that Dib was unquestionably still asleep, he was smiling contentedly. Zim sighed and relaxed into the embrace, resigning himself to being held and loved.

What a disaster the day had been. Somehow even more of a disaster than last year. But they’d somehow pulled through it yet again, closer and more in love than they’d been the year before.

Zim turned and kissed Dib’s arm gently. “I love you, Dib,” he whispered softly in the dark. “Sweet dreams.”


	3. Heat of the Moment - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's just ... so much sex in this chapter I don't know what else to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is being released in two parts because it's LONG as a single chapter and the second part is begging for some overhaul.  
> *********************************************  
> Check me out on [Tumblr](https://starlitvesper.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter (18+ ONLY)](https://twitter.com/starlitvesper) for snippets, updates, my art, ugly selfies and posts about my cats!

_When I'm kneeling at your bedside,_  
_I'll get this feeling, we'll never die_

_Though the world seems to change,_  
_Love stays the same._  
_100 years from now, your hands are mine._

[\- Pandas & People, _Hands in Mine_](https://pandasandpeopleband.com/track/1477959/hands-in-mine)

* * *

_[Second year of college — Fall Semester]_  
  
i.

Zim was pressed back against Dib, enjoying the skin-to-skin contact. Dib slowly slid his hand down Zim’s shoulder to his chest, past his belly and down between his legs. He pressed up inside him, gently pleasuring Zim with his fingertips. Zim trembled under the touch and put his hand on top of Dib’s, holding it steady so he could rub against it.

“You’ve gotten so good at that,” Zim whimpered.

Dib could feel himself getting harder as Zim pressed against him. They’d worked their way up slowly from naked make-out sessions to Zim letting him slip a couple fingers inside him, but full-blown penetrative sex was still out of the question. Not that Dib had asked after Zim had accidentally stabbed him months ago. He had made his peace with hurriedly taking care of himself out of sight afterwards so that Zim wouldn’t feel too badly about the whole arrangement.

However, he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t at least a little enjoyable. Zim was gyrating ecstatically against his hand and at this point, he knew all the intricacies of getting Zim off. How he liked it when Dib sucked the ends of his antenna while swirling his fingers inside him, exactly where to apply the perfect amount of pressure to send Zim over the edge, and — the coup de grace — how whispering little I-love-you’s and compliments and praise throughout drove Zim wild.

“You look beautiful like that,” Dib murmured.

“Like what?” Zim whispered back, eyes closed, as he continued fucking Dib’s hand.

Dib kissed his cheek. “All helpless when I touch you.” He pressed a little harder and stroked downwards, watching as Zim arched his back and gasped. “Getting close?”

“You have no idea …” Zim said under his breath.

“I think I have _some_ idea …” Din kissed Zim’s neck and then bit down hard enough to leave a bruise. That was all it took to turn Zim into a quivering mess, leaving Dib to finger him to completion.

He let go of Zim’s neck a moment. “Such a good little bug …” he whispered as he thrust his hand in and out between Zim’s legs. All Zim could do was whimper in response. Dib bit him again, slightly below the prior bite marks. Zim was breathing hard now, his cock wrapped around Dib’s wrist. He bit down a little harder just to hear Zim exclaim and feel him squirm. He licked down Zim’s antenna and ran his teeth over the end.

“Ah! Dib! Gentle!!” Zim squeaked.

“Alright, alright,” Dib said, right before he took it in his mouth again and ran his tongue over it. Zim was getting loud and incessant now, so Dib swirled his fingers around one last time, found the exact right spot, pressed in, and rubbed his fingertips against it. Zim shrieked with pleasure and trembled in Dib’s arms, back arched and toes curling. A moment later his entire body relaxed as his tentacle finally released Dib’s wrist. 

As Zim lie panting against him, Dib gave him a confused look.

“Um … I don’t want to be an ass about this … but you didn’t _fake_ that just now, did you?”

Zim opened one eye, looking wounded. “Why would you even ask that?? Do I _look_ like I was faking??”

“No … sorry … just …” Dib went red. “Usually there’s more jizz involved than that …”

“Vaginal orgasms are a _thing_ , Dib,” Zim replied. He would know. He’d been reading up.

“I _know that_. This is just the first time that’s happened … Maybe I did something weird …”

It finally hit Zim that Dib was worried about his own performance. He rolled over and hugged his human. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Everything felt amazing. Best one in a while, really.” He snuggled against Dib and purred loudly as Dib played with his antennae. Post-coital cuddles were one of his conditions for letting Dib stick his fingers in places that felt … well, admittedly _very good._

From where he was nestled against the curve of Dib’s body, he could feel Dib’s cock pressed against him. He pressed his hips towards it, suddenly filled with an overwhelming need to slide it inside him.

“Do you want to try again?” he asked softly, cheek pressed against Dib’s chest.

“Again? I thought you just said that was a good one.”

“No, it was. I meant … I thought we could try … actually having sex again.” He whispered the last bit so softly Dib initially thought he’d misheard.

Dib’s face fell as he remembered the last time Zim had brought this particular subject up. “Oh, Zim … you don’t have to. I don’t want you to push yourself just for my benefit.”

“And you’re trying to avoid getting stabbed again,” Zim mumbled. 

“And I’m trying to avoid getting stabbed again,” Dib admitted. “But your comfort is my first priority.” Mostly because it ensured Dib’s bodily safety. But still.

Zim put his antennae over Dib’s heart, listening to it beat under his ribs. “This is going to sound strange,” he said, “but you smell amazing right now and I just keep thinking about … having you inside me.” His eyes were closed and he was slowly rubbing against Dib. “I know you disappear to go take care of yourself after you get me off. Imagine being able to just … slide up inside me where I can look into your eyes when you come.”

Dib was having a difficult time _not_ imagining that now. He was hyper aware of how hard he was as Zim pressed against him.

“See?” Zim said, wrapping his own dexterous member just under Dib’s tip and grinding against the length of his cock. Dib could already feel how wet Zim was. “I thought you might enjoy that mental image …”

“This is just a really sudden change,” Dib said carefully. He was having an increasingly difficult time ignoring how aroused he was by everything Zim was doing. “The ‘no sex’ thing has been a line you really didn’t want me to cross.”

“What are you concerned about?” Zim asked curiously, pausing for a moment. 

“Getting stabbed,” Dib grumbled. “But also just … your mental well-being. That you might do this and then regret it.”

Zim was rubbing against him again. “I don’t feel like I will. Maybe we’ll do this and we’ll be even closer. Mmm, that would be nice, right?”

Zim was breathing hard and moaning as he pleasured himself against Dib’s cock. He pushed Dib from his side onto his back, mounting him and continuing to grind against him aggressively. Dib didn’t have much desire to fight him off. He closed his eyes and gently put his hands on Zim’s upper back and ass, arching his back as Zim’s grip on his cock tightened.

He suddenly sat up slightly, propped on his elbows. “Oh, fuck … Zim, stop. I don’t have condoms …” he said apologetically.

“Huh?” Zim was finally still for a moment.

Dib put a hand over his face. “I … didn’t think you’d ever want to have sex with me so I never bought condoms …” he mumbled self-consciously.

“What are you worried about?” Zim asked in confusion. “ _I’ve_ never had sex. I don’t have any weird diseases … wait, _do you??_ Did you have sex with someone else?? I was supposed to be your first, Dib!” Zim wailed. They’d never explicitly agreed to that, but Zim had always assumed it was in the subtext of their relationship. Dib belonged to Zim, ergo, Dib was not allowed to have sex with anyone else. Ever. Even predating the relationship. It wasn’t allowed.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dib said with a roll of his eyes. “When would I have found time out of your sight for _that_ kind of thing?”

“Back before you were my mate?”

“Again, when would I have found time out of your sight—”

“Oh, shut up,” Zim grumbled self-consciously, flopping down on top of him. “I get it; I’m obsessive.”

Dib kissed down the side of his face. “Oh, quit your worrying. Of course I saved myself for you. My problem is that I have no idea how your anatomy functions or if …” Dib trailed off, blushing. 

“Eh? What are you getting at?”

Dib mumbled something unhelpfully.

“Would you spit it out already?”

“Alright. Um ... Can you get pregnant?”

Zim sat up so that Dib could experience the full force of his bewildered expression.

“Irkens are _sterile_ , Dib,” Zim said slowly, as if the thing he was explaining was so blatantly obvious it didn’t need to be explained.

“Oh…” Dib said, feeling stupid. It took a moment for the information to percolate through his brain. “Oh!” he said brightly, as the implications dawned on him. “Well, never mind then! Let’s do this.”

“Oh thank fuck,” Zim sighed happily, sitting up. “Just hold that thing still …the human penis is the least impressive feat of evolution I’ve ever seen.”

“Wow, thanks … maybe I’ll just go jack off in the bathroom instead like usual …”

Zim huffed and grabbed his cock. “You’re so full of excuses tonight. When you could instead be filling me full of …” He dropped down and shrieked, head thrown back in ecstasy. _“Oh, Dib … fuck!”_

Dib’s back arched and his entire body buzzed. He desperately wanted to grab Zim’s hips and thrust up into him. The pressure on all sides of his cock felt indescribably amazing. Zim slowly lowered himself back down against Dib’s stomach, moaning low and shaking.

“Are you okay?” Dib asked, cuddling him. 

Zim nodded. “Just give me a moment … I almost came already. Fuck … Are you huge or am I small? … Actually don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter. You feel _amazing_ …” he babbled in hushed tones.

He put his hands on Dib’s shoulders and took in all the ways Dib’s cock stretched him. He mumbled under his breath about how overwhelmingly _good_ it felt as he slowly rocked his hips, rubbing his cock against Dib and feeling Dib’s own hard member slide in and out of him. Dib grabbed his hips and pressed desperately upwards, sliding his cock all the way in and stretching Zim to his limit. Zim whimpered and bit his lip as he bucked his hips down against Dib’s body.

He suddenly let out a desperate cry and sat up, momentarily startling Dib. Before his poor, confused human could as if everything was okay, Zim started riding him frantically, mumbling and moaning and bouncing up and down. Dib was too turned on to be put off by what sounded like Zim speaking in tongues. He grabbed Zim’s thighs and tried to match his own desperate thrusts upwards to Zim’s frenetic pace.

He could feel the pressure building between his legs and tried to find his voice to warn Zim. That was only polite, right? To avoid startling your partner with sudden splooge? He realized that neither porn nor sex ed had really prepared him for this situation.

“Zim, I’m really close …” he managed to squeak out.

“Good,” Zim panted in response, still riding him passionately. “You’ve been so quiet I was starting to wonder if I suck at this …”

“You’re perfect, Zim,” he whispered, tightening his grip on Zim’s thighs. “I love you,” he said, punctuating his words with a desperate thrust upwards.

Zim yelped and collapsed against Dib’s chest, making him momentarily panic.

“I’m okay, I’m okay …” Zim assured him, still grinding against his cock.

Dib put a hand on his ass to brace him and pressed his cock deeper, stretching him and making him shake with pleasure. 

“Say you’re mine,” Zim begged, frantically humping him.

“I’m yours …”

“ _Forever_ ,” Zim added, his voice high and pleading.

“I’m yours forever,” Dib panted, feeling like his cock was about to explode at any moment. He kissed Zim sloppily, eyelids fluttering. “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours …” he repeated breathlessly between kisses.

His back arched as he suddenly came without warning. He managed to choke out Zim’s name as he grabbed his hips and shoved his cock as deep as it could go. Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear Zim’s own ecstatic cries as he came.

Abruptly, it felt like everything was over. His body went limp, still trembling and tingling. He could feel Zim breathing hard and fast against his chest, and he lifted a shaking hand to place gently on the small of his back.

“Was I good?” Zim whispered.

“You were amazing, Zim,” Dib replied, hugging him. “I hope you got something out of it, too …”

Zim sighed. “If you’re still suspicious that this wasn’t as messy as it normally is … I don’t know what to tell you.” He shrugged, then nuzzled against Dib’s neck. “Who cares if my dick is on the fritz … I don’t want it to overshadow the more important thing: our first successful coupling. Mm, you’re such a good mate …” Zim smiled contentedly and softly ran his nails over Dib’s shoulders.

Dib had initially tried to break Zim of his habit of calling them “mates” — especially since he would unflinchingly introduce himself as “Dib’s mate” to anyone and everyone, including, early on, an incredibly amused Gaz — but Zim had insisted that neither “boyfriend” nor “partner” really covered the intensity and length of their relationship. Eventually, Dib had decided that this was not a hill he was willing to die on and let it go. He also had to admit that it had grown on him a little. Zim always said it with such love and pride, it was hard not to smile when he heard it.

“Are you falling asleep down there?” Zim asked, poking his cheek.

“Maybe a little,” Dib said without opening his eyes.

“Do you want to stay like this?”

Dib’s cock had gone soft but was still inside Zim, and he sleepily thought about how _nice_ it felt. He ran his fingers down Zim’s back, ass, and thighs, taking in how soft Zim’s skin was.

“If you’re comfy? I’d love it,” he murmured.

Zim reached over and pulled the sheets over both of them, snuggling back up in the crook of Dib’s neck.

“You make me happy, Dib,” Zim said softly, patting his chest.

Dib planted an awkward little kiss on the top of his head. “You make me pretty happy, too.”

_ii._

Dib woke up groggily, immediately aware of Zim asleep on top of him, his head next to Dib’s on the pillow, getting drool in his hair. As if that wasn’t enough, Dib could already tell there was dried cum and various other fluids halfway up his belly. He groped blindly for his phone, squinted at the time, and then sat up in a panic. Zim, having been rudely awakened from a deep sleep, screeched and grabbed onto him, claws biting into his skin.

“What the fuck, Dib??” Zim swore, nearly hyperventilating.

“We’ve got 15 minutes to get to class! I forgot to set an alarm last night!” Dib said urgently, trying to extricate himself from Zim. “Ugh, and I don’t have time to shower!”

Zim put a hand on his chest. “Nonsense, Dib. There’s always time for a shower. Especially when you smell like …” Zim made a face.

“Dried cum and alien coot?” Dib said dryly.

“The last one is the only reason you don’t smell absolutely abysmal, so excuse you,” Zim said dismissively. He went to lift Dib up. “To the showers with you. I’ll get our things together.”

“Okay, okay … stop trying to help. I’m going,” Dib grumbled as he swatted Zim’s hands away.

“Seriously, Dib, where would you be without me?”

“Right now? On my way to class because I would have no one to stay up all night fucking.” Dib gave him a kiss before scurrying off. 

With Zim hurrying him along (and then insisting on riding on his back as they dashed to class) they made it exactly on time. The rush of the morning had preoccupied most of Zim’s thoughts but now, in the drab classroom, learning things he’d uploaded decades ago as a smeet, there was nothing to distract him from how irritatingly aroused he was. I didn’t help that Dib was sitting next to him, occasionally brushing against him and smelling … strangely good. If asked to nail down what, _exactly,_ it was Dib smelled like, Zim wasn’t sure he could say. Only that it was driving him absolutely wild.

Zim was relieved when class finally ended. Moving around was more of a distraction than zoning out in class.

“Do we have time to head home over lunch?” Zim asked as they started towards their usual dining commons. _Home_ was Zim’s base, plucked up from its old cul-de-sac and placed just on the outskirts of the university proper, siphoning utilities from nearby university-owned residences. Dib refused to feel bad about it; he figured it was as good a use of his tuition dollars as any.

“I mean, in theory, yeah,” Dib replied. “Depends on what you want to do.”

Zim dropped his voice. “I’ve been turned on since this morning and it’s getting distracting …”

“Oh, is _that_ why you wore your long hoodie today?”

“That and the fact that it’s freezing. Which you’d think would help the whole being permanently turned-on thing. But it doesn’t. So let’s just go back home.”

Dib clucked his tongue doubtfully. “Yeahhh I don’t think 45 minutes is long enough to make the ten minute walk home, fuck, somehow squeeze an actual meal in there, shower, then make it to class on time.”

“That’s enough time for a quickie,” Zim said with a grin.

Dib raised an eyebrow. “When we get back, I’m putting some parental controls on your computer. I don’t even want to know what you’ve been getting up to on there.”

“Ugh, Dib, come on!! There’s still two more classes before we’re done for the day,” Zim whined.

“Don’t forget I’m also tutoring those chemistry students after that.”

Dib had been lucky enough to secure a TA position at the start of the semester. Not as though they needed much income, seeing as Zim’s base was siphoning utilities off the neighbors, but having the pocket money and not having to always rely on whatever dark magic kept Zim’s bank account full was always nice.

Zim groaned. “So you’re telling me I have to wait until almost dinner time, Dib? That’s not fair …”

“As flattered as I am, I do have to ask what the hell has gotten into you all of a sudden,” Dib said with a confused glance.

“I don’t know what kind of story you’re expecting,” Zim grumbled. “I woke up yesterday and couldn’t stop thinking about having sex with you and it didn’t seem gross or terrible anymore. That’s it. That’s the entire story.”

“And you’re not … concerned or weirded out over that?” Dib asked.

“Should I be?”

“I dunno … it’s just kind of strange, don’t you think? Two years of being violently sex repulsed and now you’re begging me for it.”

“Begging?” Zim said with a disgusted face. “Irkens don’t _beg,_ Dib. I’m insulted you would even suggest—”

“I just remembered that there’s an empty closet on the 3rd floor of the student union.”

Zim stopped short. “Please?” he chirped before he could stop himself.

“Aaaand there it is.” Dib shook his hand loose and kept walking.

Zim looked betrayed. “That means nothing, Dib,” he said, snatching Dib’s hand again and holding it tightly. “But were you serious about that closet because—”

“Zim, _please_. Let me just eat a sandwich, contemplate how my life ended up here, and get through the rest of the day.”

Zim looked sullen as he trotted along at Dib’s heels.

“If you can behave yourself,” Dib said, glancing down, “then we’ll do whatever you want as soon we’re home. You just have to get through the next few hours.”

“Ugh, fine. At least it’s a Friday so I don’t have to worry about keeping you up too late.”

Zim managed to suffer through lunch and the first half of their calculus class before he started to reach his breaking point. He shifted uncomfortably in his squeaky lecture hall seat for what felt like the millionth time in the past five minutes. Dib cast him a quizzical look.

“I’ll be right back,” Zim whispered, slipping past him and down the row. He hurried out of the lecture hall and through the quiet hallways until he found the bathroom. He shuddered. Public bathrooms were nothing but a haven for germs but he was a little short on available places to hide while he tried to get off for the next few minutes. At least this one was single stall, meaning the door went all the way to the floor. Anything less was simply barbaric.

He locked himself inside, yanked down his pants, and leaned against the wall. When he reached down, he suddenly realized his cock was missing in action. _Great._ This was going to take longer than he planned. He closed his eyes and thought back to last night; Dib gripping his thighs and railing him with wild abandon. He could feel himself growing wetter as he pictured it but … nope, still nothing in the dick department.

He growled in frustration. _Alright. Fine, then._ He’d paid attention to the way Dib fucked him with his fingers. He could do the same thing. He shoved a finger up inside himself and immediately realized that his fingers were significantly shorter than Dib’s. He was frustrated enough at this point that he pushed onwards regardless. He spread his legs and sat back against the wall, thinking of Dib and all the things he wanted to do to him.

It didn’t take long for him to realize he wasn’t getting anywhere. He wiped his hand off on his leg and pulled out his phone. 

_I can’t get off without you,_ he texted Dib. 

Dib seemed to be waiting to hear from him. 

_What do you want me to do about it?_

Zim scowled. _There’s like 30 minutes left of class. Get over here and help me out!_

_Fine, but you’re doing my homework for the week._

Zim waited, irritably fingering himself and wildly aware of how little it was doing for his condition. He was relieved when Dib knocked.

“Zim? You in there?” Dib whispered outside the door. Zim unlocked it and Dib slipped in, looking nervous. “This seems like a bad idea …”

“Leaving me this frustratingly aroused _also_ seems like a bad idea,” Zim grumbled.

“Alright. Fine. How did you want to do this?” Dib asked, looking around at the cramped space.

“What minimizes our contact with surfaces in here?”

“I can lift you up so your back is against the wall. Bonus for you … I’d be doing most of the work holding you up,” Dib offered.

Zim made a face. “Okay, fine, but only because I’m desperate.”

“I’m going to need a little foreplay before I can do anything,” Dib admitted with a blush.

“What do you mean?” Zim asked skeptically.

“Just … kiss me and let me let me finger you?” Dib asked tentatively.

“Oh! Why didn’t you just say that?” Zim said brightly.

Dib dropped his pants to his ankles and then looked at Zim. “You’re going to have to take those off,” he said, gesturing to Zim’s leggings.

Zim took one foot out of his boot and balanced on the other while he extricated his leg, then stuffed the end of that side of his leggings into the other so that it wouldn’t drag on the ground.

“We’re going to miss all of class, aren’t we?” Dib asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I’m trying to avoid picking up germs, Dib!” Zim said defensively.

While Zim finished his ridiculous balancing act, Dib pulled off his hoodie and rolled it up. He handed it over to Zim. 

“For your back,” he explained.

Zim looked at it, then back at Dib with pleasant surprise. “Look at you, taking care of your Zim.”

Dib smiled back. “I like to think I’ve gotten better at it,” he said bashfully. “Alright, you’ll let me lift you?”

Zim rolled his eyes in a long suffering manner. “It’s a necessary evil, yes?”

Dib bent down and grabbed Zim’s thighs while Zim put his arms around Dib’s neck. Dib lifted him and leaned him against the wall, helping him cushion his lower back.

“You know … you should find a way to make that more streamlined,” Dib said, nodding towards Zim’s pack.

“All of my stuff and all of my _me_ is in there, though!” Zim said with a frown. He shook his head. “Forget that for now, though. Shut up and kiss me.”

Dib didn’t even have time to react before Zim grabbed him and kissed him with unrestrained glee. Dib let Zim work his tongue steadily toward the back of his throat, while he reached around and under Zim, easily sliding his fingers inside.

“That’s one more finger than normal,” Zim mumbled.

“Prepping you for something even bigger,” Dib mumbled back as he slid them in and out.

Zim’s hands slid up Dib’s neck and into his hair, gently combing through and twirling and tugging as his tongue started to slide down Dib’s throat. It didn’t take long for the whole situation to make Dib incredibly hard, and he reached down to line himself up.

Zim finally released him. “You really like it when I do that thing with my tongue, don’t you?”

Dib smiled. “What makes you say that?”

Zim let himself slide down until the tip of Dib’s cock slipped inside him. “Just a good guesser,” he said with a smirk.

Dib tipped his hips up slowly, watching as Zim’s expression change to one of utter bliss. Zim was so wet that it took little effort to slide all the way inside and stretch him to his limit.

“How’s that?” Dib asked softly. 

“It’s everything I needed,” Zim whimpered back. “Kissing is good and having your fingers inside me is nice but I _need_ you to fuck me properly right now.”

Dib was rocking his hips against Zim’s now, slowly and easily sliding his cock in and out. He noted the absence of Zim’s dextrous little tentacle, missing the way it had coiled around his own cock.

“I loved it when you came inside me last night,” Zim whispered as Dib fucked him. “You sounded so happy and the look on your face and the way you held me afterwards …”

Dib looked up a moment and stroked Zim’s cheek with his thumb. “That’s … shockingly sweet,” he said, blushing. He leaned in for a kiss and Zim once again slid his tongue in, kissing passionately as Dib bucked his hips against Zim. He was grateful for the hoodie cushioning Zim’s back; there was no way he would have been able to pound him this hard against drywall. He loved the way Zim whispered against his lips and how Zim’s fingers were all tangled in his hair and Zim’s heels dug into the small of his back every time Zim took the full length of his dick.

“Shit, I’m already close,” Dib whispered urgently. How long had they been like this? Wrapped together and moaning and taking pleasure in each others’ bodies? They seemed to inhabit a liminal space where pleasure made time run strangely and they could almost forget that they were passionately fucking against the wall of a public restroom while their class carried on unknowingly a few hundred feet to the right.

“Oh good, I thought it was just me,” Zim moaned. He pulled the knit beanie off his head and his antennae sprung up. “Kiss me, do that thing you do to my antennae and … just pound me, alright?”

“Are you bossing me around?” Dib asked with a smile. 

“You better believe I am.”

Dib took a moment to suck on the end of his antennae, using his tongue to make it flex gently. He slid it back out and opened his eyes. Zim made a face and wiped away a stray strand of drool trailing down to Dib’s mouth. 

“You’re so gross …”

“You like it on some level,” Dib said with a grin. “You’re going to have to hold on to me if you want me to use my hands to do anything.” Zim tightened his grip around Dib’s neck and waist. Dib reached for his antennae as Zim pulled him in for a kiss. Dib fucked him slowly, trying to work out the physical balancing act of Zim clinging to him, and the cognitive balancing act of everything else he was doing. He’d barely gotten going and Zim was already making rather loud, desperate noises. He took a moment to decide whether or not he actually cared if people knew they were fucking. He decided he really couldn’t be arsed and got to work giving Zim the pounding he’d asked for.

Zim had wrapped his fingers in Dib’s hair so he couldn’t pull away, and slowly flicked his tongue in and out, making his way down Dib’s throat. All Dib could do was relax and let it happen. The sensation just served to arouse him further as he slammed against Zim’s hips. He tugged a bit on Zim’s antennae as he ran his fingers down them, causing Zim to chirp in surprise. Dib waited a beat while Zim slowly pulled back.

“Is that a yes or a no on the pulling?” Dib whispered breathlessly.

Zim looked conflicted. “Maybe … yes but _gently_? I mean it … kinda hurts but in a good way?”

Dib grinned. “You kinky bastard …”

Zim looked away. “Kinks? Pfft … I don’t have any of those things.”

“Mm, that’s a shame,” Dib replied. He leaned in close and grinned wide. “I’ve got a few, myself.”

Zim narrowed his eyes. “That’s great, Dib. Now would you finish getting me off so we can get back to class?”

Dib took Zim’s antennae in one hand and pulled them taut above his head. He was aware that he was dancing dangerously close to an invisible line that would be inadvisable to cross. But at the same time … provoking a reaction out of Zim was too much fun.

“Any harder than that and I swear I will bite your tongue clean off,” Zim growled.

“Oh you _do_ still have some fight left in you. And here I thought you’d gone soft since we started dating.”

“Dib!” Zim snapped.

“Jeez, what?”

“You’re being a jerk. I need you to snap out of it and _just do the thing I asked you to do_. We can experiment later.”

Dib let go and Zim perked an antenna. 

“I still want you to play with those. Just … stick to the rules.”

“Gotcha …” Dib said, looking chastised. “Sorry.”

Zim kissed his nose. “You stopped, though,” he said, sounding impressed. “You actually listened.”

“Personal growth, right?”

Zim pressed their foreheads together. “I’m proud of you,” he beamed, stroking Dib’s cheek. He reached down to where their bodies met. “Now, how about you show me another kind of personal growth …”

“You’re terrible,” Dib said, laughing despite himself. He kissed up Zim’s neck, rolling his hips slowly while he ran Zim’s antennae through his fingers. “That more like it?” he whispered against Zim’s lips.

“Much better,” Zim replied, kissing him slowly. “But I did say you could go a little harder …”

“I’m getting there…” Dib rolled his hips faster and faster until he was slamming Zim back against the wall and Zim was so loud he could no longer be muffled against Dib’s lips. Each impact pushed both of them closer and closer to the finish line and within a handful of strokes, Zim tipped his head back and gave a passionate cry. The force of his muscles squeezing Dib’s cock was all that was needed to push him over the edge as well.

Zim’s head rested against Dib’s shoulder as he finished. Dib stood, breathing heavily and shaking as he held Zim up. Zim was limp and slumped against him.

“Ohhhh yeah,” Zim whispered contentedly. “That was exactly what I needed.”

“Are you gonna be okay if I set you down? I don’t want you fainting on the tile ...”

Zim nodded and Dib let him slide down to his feet, grabbing his hoodie before it fell to the floor. He pulled his jeans back up and his hoodie back on while Zim pulled his precarious balancing act trying to limit his contact with the room around him. Dib held on to his arm to steady him. Zim finally managed to get his foot in his boot and looked up at Dib, beaming. 

“You did well,” he said, reaching for Dib’s hand. “I mean that. Everything I was worried about …” He shook his head. “You surprised me. Pleasantly.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Dib said with an offhand shrug, not quite sure what to do in the face of such positive attention and compliments. “We should probably get back to class.”

Zim unlocked the door and pulled it open. “They probably didn’t even realize we were gone.”

As the entered the next hallway, they had to step aside as their classmates streamed out of the room. They scurried upstream through the crowd back into the classroom, which the professor seemed to have already mercifully vacated. There would be no awkward questions about where the two of them had disappeared to for the better part of half an hour. They packed up their things and made their way to their next class.

Once they were outside, Dib cautiously gave voice to the concerns that had slowly but steadily been making him uneasy.

“Have you, uh, thought about checking your hormones?”

Zim gave him a weird look. “Why would I do that?”

“I’m just a little concerned about you …”

“I thought you’d _like_ getting to have sex with me,” Zim said, confused.

“I do! It’s just … I noticed _something_ was missing,” Dib said in a hushed tone. That _something_ being Zim’s dick, but Dib was too embarrassed to say it. “Between that and your sudden need to be dicked down, I’m a little concerned.”

“We didn’t even know I had a dick until a year ago,” Zim said with a shrug. He had no such linguistic hangups. “Why worry that it’s suddenly gone MIA?”

“I wouldn’t, except that it coincides with this sudden horniness.”

They walked in silence, Zim seeming a bit miffed and Dib all nervousness and concern.

“I’m just saying,” Dib started, staring off in the distance, “maybe we should look into whether or not your people … go into heat or something.”

“Do _what_ now?” Zim asked with a quizzical eyebrow raise.

“You know,” Dib mumbled, red-faced, “like mating and fertility cycles.”

“Not this again,” Zim griped. “How many times do I have to remind you that Irkens are sterile?”

“I didn’t forget. I was just thinking that because you’re …” He cast a nervous glance to Zim. He knew better than to say _that word_ in front of Zim -- especially an increasingly pissed-off looking Zim -- but he didn’t have a good stand-in.

“Because I’m _what,_ Dib?” Zim said testily. “Choose your next words carefully.”

“I don’t know what other word to use for it.”

“Well, you know I don’t like that one.” Zim crossed his arms.

“I was just thinking that because your PAK has some … _features,”_ Dib said through gritted teeth, “would it be so strange to think that maybe there are all sorts of things slipping through the cracks?”

“How did you manage to take something _good_ and make it about me being broken?” Zim asked, looking wounded.

“I’m not! I’m just --”

“I’m done with this conversation,” Zim said tersely as he suddenly trotted ahead of Dib. He showed no signs of slowing down, so Dib slowed his pace and watched Zim disappear in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for this cliffhanger ;~;


	4. Heat of the Moment - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fight resolves. Zim refuses to wait until they get home to bone. Dib has a moderate panic attack. Zim tops pretty aggressively.  
> *********************************************  
> Check me out on [Tumblr](https://starlitvesper.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter (18+ ONLY)](https://twitter.com/starlitvesper) for snippets, updates, my art, ugly selfies and posts about my cats!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am finishing this up before I drive across the country again so ... I really hope it's good and you like it.
> 
> Edit: As of Feb 18, 2020 there is a new sub-chapter in here. It’s part ii. You’re not going crazy ... I just added content <3

_And in the darkness we leave our bodies_  
_Leave our bodies, so alive_  
_I felt like I could die_  
_Happy for a moment_  
_Happy 'cause you stole my spare time_

[ -DREAMERS, _Die Happy_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7aYZVrBC7ZY)

* * *

i.

Despite his irritability with Dib, Zim still saved him a seat. That didn’t mean he had to acknowledge Dib outside of that, though. He pointedly ignored him when he walked in the room and avoided looking in his direction until the end of the lecture, when Dib finally tried to get his attention.

“You can’t be that mad at me, if you still let me sit next to you,” Dib said hopefully.

Zim tried to rally his remaining anger, but found it had fizzled out. “I’m not even that mad at you right now,” Zim grumbled as he packed up. “But I _was_ earlier. You know I don’t like talking about being …” Zim’s look turned dark.

“I know,” Dib said quietly as they stood up to leave. “I was just worried about you. But there’s clearly nothing to worry about and I was out of line.”

Zim looked up and studied Dib’s expression carefully. “You don’t really think that,” Zim said, noting how Dib wouldn’t meet his eyes. Dib was the worst liar on the face of the planet. Even if you didn’t call him out, he would eventually fold under the weight of his own guilt.

“I was out of line,” Dib repeated, turning towards him. “And if you’re not concerned, I won’t worry about it.”

Zim reached for his hand. “I’m not. I’m enjoying this. And you should, too.”

“We don’t have time between now and the study group I have to lead,” Dib said without looking down.

“I meant _after_ that,” Zim grumbled.

“Are you coming along or waiting at home?”

“Coming along, I guess,” Zim sighed. “I’ll do our homework while I wait. That way nothing can take you from me this weekend.”

“You’re too good to me,” Dib said with an awkward side hug. 

They made their way over to the classroom and Zim finally let go of Dib’s hand and set himself up in the corner of the room, out of the way. He hadn’t missed the odd look the other students gave them when they’d entered. While Zim was sure it didn’t help that he looked to be about 12 to Dib’s arguable 20, he was used to getting the same quizzical reception from people they’d run into before. He and Dib were only really close with each other and it was difficult to overlook the intensity of their relationship. They tended to occupy the same 5 foot bubble of personal space a majority of the time, seeing only each other and letting everyone else be incidental. In high school, it kept them safe from the rest of their classmates. In college, it looked strange. 

Dib was able to put on a front and interact with other people in the short term but he had a perpetual wall up from the abuse he’d suffered from their classmates when he was younger. The exception seemed to be when he was at the front of a classroom, teaching. Part of it was obviously having people listen for once. But Dib had shockingly well-developed patience when dealing with questions and points of confusion. Probably, Zim assumed, from the amount of time Dib had devoted to trying to convince their classmates that Zim was an alien.

Zim watched for a while, lost in thought, until Dib happened to catch him staring. Zim gave him a thumbs-up and a small smile before turning back to their homework. He finished everything in short order and by the time he was ready to pack everything away, Dib was wrapping up the session. Zim waited with his last reservoir of patience for everyone to file out before scampering over to where Dib had sat down to pack up.

“So that’s it for today, yes?”

“I thought I’d go see if there are some night classes I can pop into real quick,” Dib said with a grin.

“Dib, please …”

“I’m kidding. We can head home.”

Zim put his hand on top of Dib’s and squeezed it gently. “Or … you could go lock the door,” he said conspiratorially. 

“Are you sure?” Dib asked skeptically. “It’ll only take ten minutes to walk home. And if we keep doing this, we’re _going_ to get caught.”

“Dib, would you just fucking …” Zim made and irritated noise before abruptly pulling off his boots, followed by his pants. He hopped up on the table in front of a completely bewildered Dib. “Lock the door, then get back over here and take care of me.”

Dib stood up so fast that he nearly toppled his chair. “Take your hoodie and shirt off too!” he called as he rushed to lock the door. By the time he scurried back, Zim was sitting on the table, legs spread apart and clothes in a pile next to him.

Zim reached down and fumbled with the button on Dib’s jeans for a moment before successfully undoing it and yanking down the zipper. He had managed to get everything out of the way and was holding Dib’s cock in his hand by the time Dib finally leaned back to give him a serious look.

“You’re _sure_ you want to do this here?”

“I don’t want to wait … I _need_ this,” Zim said desperately. “I’ve needed it all day and I’m going insane every second that you’re not inside me.”

“Even after this morning?”

It really hadn’t been that long ago.

“I’m fine for 20 minutes and then I’m not fine again,” Zim whimpered. “If I had it my way, we’d spend the next day continuously fucking until I stop needing this.”

Dib let him guide their bodies together, until his tip was pressed against Zim’s warm, wet, waiting entrance.

“Are you sore from earlier?” Dib asked cautiously, even though every fiber of his being was screaming at him to just grab Zim’s hips and making him take the entire length all at once.

“A little …”

“Alright, I’ll be gentle, then …”

Zim leaned in and didn’t even wait for their lips to touch before shoving his tongue aggressively into Dib’s mouth and wrapping his legs around Dib’s waist, digging his heels into back to urge him forward. Dib slowly slid inside as Zim made high, pleading noises into his mouth.

Zim was a good kisser, if a little overzealous. Dib had lost track of the number of times Zim had nonchalantly shoved his tongue down his throat without warning. This time Zim seemed to be trying to rein it in, at least, channeling his energy instead into excitedly bucking his hips towards Dib and attempting to pull his shirt off.

“Why am I the only one completely in the nude here?” he mumbled into Dib’s mouth. “Take that off … I’m trying to maximize physical contact.”

Dib pulled his shirt off and Zim gave him a look.

“On second thought, take all of it off.”

“Zim …”

“It’s after 5pm on a Friday, Dib!” Zim said, exasperated. “Who the hell is going to find us?”

“Other people looking to also have semi-public sex?”

“Well, they can get their own classroom, then.”

Dib shimmied out of his pants, blushing. 

“You have a great ass, Dib. Quit being bashful and get over here.”

“Take your contacts off, then, space boy,” Dib countered.

Zim rolled his eyes but complied. “Better?” he asked, stowing them safely in his PAK.

“Much better,” Dib said, easily sliding back inside him. He was starting to forget that they were openly fucking on school property under the harsh glow of fluorescent lightening. In the back of his mind, however, he made a mental note never to eat off one of those tables ever again.

His hands found Zim’s antennae and he stroked down the length of them, increasing the tension minutely with each stroke. In the cacophony of motion, Dib found his mind wandering to strange places. What the hell was he doing with his hands, tugging gradually harder, waiting for Zim to yelp or give him some indication of when to stop? Did he _want_ to hurt Zim? He mentally scrolled through the rest of his strange fantasies and was abruptly smacked upside the head with the fact that most of them leaned rather dark.

Dib had been working on the assumption that he and Zim would never have sex, and his dark desires would never be relevant. Now he had to wonder how many of those things he actually _wanted_ to do for real. Should he tell Zim? He probably _shouldn’t_ tell Zim. But what if these things ate him alive until he actually _did do something?_

Was he alone in this? He hoped he wasn’t alone in this. But there were so many strange and arguably fucked-up fantasies floating around in his head. He needed to know if Zim had any equally fucked-up desires so he could finally spill all the dark secrets in his soul to someone. 

“Hello? Earth to Dib?” Zim said, waving his hand in Dib’s face.

“Huh?”

“Why did you stop?” Zim seemed confused and concerned at this point. “Maybe we should just do this at home…”

“I don’t think you’d like me if you knew all the deranged shit that goes on in my head,” Dib blurted.

Zim lookedd taken aback. “Excuse me? What does that have to do with anything?”

“The shit I fantasize about,” Dib babbled, heart and mine racing, asynchronous. “I don’t think you’d like me if you knew.”

Zim gave him a look that was difficult to read. “It’s a little late for that, Dib. I’m already invested.”

Dib pulled out and sat up in the table, legs crossed, looking haunted.

“Why is this bugging you _now_?” Zim asked, sitting up.

“Dunno … I guess I was thinking about the antenna-pulling and then I started thinking about all the other weird shit I like and wondering if it’s going to scare you away. I’d never thought about any of my sexual turn-ons coming into play and now …”

“Why don’t you just tell me, then?” Zim said, as if it were the simplest fix in the world.

“What if you freak out?” Dib said softly.

“I promise if I freak out, I’ll do it silently,” Zim said resolutely. When Dib shot him a hurt look, he sat next to him and leaned against his shoulder. “I think … you should just tell me the darkest fantasy you have and get it over with.”

“You want the weirdest shit first?”

“Everything else will seem mild by comparison.”

Dib looked at him nervously, took a deep breath, and mumbled something indecipherable. Zim gave him a quizzical look.

“This only works if I can actually hear you. You know that, right?”

Dib shifted nervously.

“We’ve tried to _kill each other_ , Dib. At length. Multiple times. What could possibly be i _n your head_ that’s worse than that?”

“... Sometimes I fantasize about being vivisected by you,” Dib said hoarsely, with visible shame. “I mean, or vice versa, but mostly you doing it to me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for Zim to recoil in horror. When he heard nothing, he cautiously opened one eye. Zim was sitting perfectly still, wide-eyed, antennae trembling above his head.

“I know …” Dib choked out. “Kinda fucked up, given our past …”

Zim still didn’t move and Dib thought this was somehow worse than reacting with visceral disgust.

“We could do it, you know,” Zim said softly, barely moving. He was staring off in the distance, past Dib.

“Huh??” Dib was certain he’d misheard. Or was having a stroke. Or had somehow abruptly been transported to an alternate universe.

“I’ve got what we’d need,” Zim continued. “We could actually do that one. Of course I’d prefer it on you, rather than me, but we can see how it goes. Maybe I’ll let you do me next.”

Dib stared at him in abject horror for a moment, feeling slightly as if he might faint. Zim took in Dib’s completely flummoxed expression and gave him a wolfish grin, putting a hand on his chest to push him back. Dib collapsed back on the table and Zim straddled him in one fluid movement.

“I could make an incision about here,” Zim said, poking a nail just under his breastbone and trailing it downwards past his navel, “and end it about here. Open you up.” He splayed his fingers and dragged his nails outwards. “Finally get to hear that heart of yours with nothing between me and it.”

Dib was breathing heavily, partly from adrenaline from the abject terror he was currently experiencing, and partly from how turned on he was. Zim didn’t miss a beat and shifted slightly until the head of Dib’s cock slid inside him. Zim slid the rest in slowly, moaning and running his hands along Dib’s chest. He closed his eyes and slowly slid Dib’s hard member in and out. Dib watched as his ass bounced, feeling Zim’s nails dig into his skin.

“What do you think about me getting my hands all up in your guts, hmm?” Zim whispered from above him. “Sliding my fingers through all that blood … Holding your beating heart in my hand. How much do you trust me, Dib?”

All Dib could do was whimper from underneath him. The situation had been expertly plucked from his hands and there was little he could do at this point except ride it out. Or let Zim ride him out. That worked, too.

“Do you trust me enough to let me scoop out your vital organs? I’d be gentle … and _probably_ put them back in the right order.”

Dib went to grab onto Zim’s thighs, but in a flash Zim grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the table with an audible _thwack!_

“Only I get to touch now, human. Keep your hands to yourself,” Zim hissed with a predatory smile. “Could be fun to see how these work, too …” He ran his thumbs over Dib’s wrists, which Dib suddenly realized were quite fragile. “Muscles, tendons, bones … so many layers to a human …”

Dib couldn’t take it anymore and abruptly bucked his hips skyward as he came, knocking Zim off-balance. Zim let go of his wrists and he grabbed Zim’s hips and thrusted up into him as hard as he could. Zim was shrieking with pleasure above him, grabbing onto Dib’s arms to avoid falling over. When Dib’s grip finally slackened and he lay panting on his back, Zim collapsed against him, laughing breathlessly.

“What … the fuck … was all _that_?” Dib squeaked.

“Sometimes, Dib,” Zim said, crossing his arms and propping himself up so he could actually look Dib in the eyes, “I have to remind both of us that I’ve got you wrapped around my finger.” He looked utterly smug and terribly pleased with himself.

“That was the most terrifying orgasm I’ve ever had,” Dib said breathlessly, moving to get up. Zim slid down to the table and settled back on his cushion of discarded clothing while Dib stood up, looking woozy.

“But now you know we’re _both_ closet freaks,” Zim said with a smile. “No need to worry anymore.”

“Yeah,” Dib said, looking a little spooked. “But like … I’ve only thought about it … you’re all set to actually _do it_.”

“Would you say no?”

“I …” Dib stopped, conflicted. “I don’t know. Maybe? … It depends. I guess … um, would I say no? Shit. Fuck. … Probably not.” He shot Zim a look. “That’s not consent to go ahead and do it. I reserve the right to revoke that at any time.”

“That _is_ how consent usually works,” Zim said, laying on his back with his eyes closed. He’d done his homework and he was almost positive that was correct.

Dib rolled over and laid down next to him.

“You are … _terrifying_ when you assert yourself,” Dib whispered. “And adorable when you’re vulnerable.”

He reached down and slid his fingers between Zim’s legs, watching as Zim melted under his touch.

“You owe it to me to get me off again,” Zim panted. “You’re getting me turned on all over again and I’m not walking home like that.”

Dib slid his fingers back out and, without pausing, slid them into his mouth. Much to Zim’s absolute shock and horror.

“Dib!!! What are you …‽‽‽ Don’t put those there!!” he sputtered. “The fuck are you doing??”

“Determining that I taste … eh, passable. But you taste _great_.” He rolled off the table, knelt between Zim’s legs, and grabbed his hips. Before Zim could do anything to prompt him to stop, he had his face between Zim’s thighs and was licking up between his legs.

“I don’t need you … ughhh … _slurping_ around inside of me, Dib,” he said with a shudder. He genuinely thought he might be ill.

Dib rested his chin just above Zim’s legs, licking his lips. “What kind of a partner would I be if I didn’t know how to clean you up?”

“Dib!” Zim shouted with audible disgust.

Dib sighed and set Zim back down, wiping his face on the back of his hand. “I’ll stop if you need me to,” Dib said. “But you taste really good and nothing would make me happier than you coming with my head between your thighs and my tongue deep inside you.”

Zim uncovered his face. “You _really_ like that?”

Dib closed his eyes and a soft whisper escaped his lips. “I love it so much …”

“Ugh. Fine. Carry on.”

Dib excitedly kissed from Zim’s chest all the way back down between his legs, sliding his tongue in and lapping hungrily. Zim tried to mentally distance the feeling from the knowledge that Dib’s tongue was inside him. He imagined this was probably what being fucked with an Irken dick was like. If Irken dicks were short and lacked reach.

Dib sounded like he was enjoying himself, moaning desperately and breathing hard. Zim tossed his legs nonchalantly over Dib’s shoulders and watched Dib look up, eyes wide. Zim nudged Dib’s head towards him with a heel and watched as Dib pressed in even deeper, sounding like he was liable to cream himself before Zim did.

He reached out and brushed Dib’s hair out of his face, then put his hands on Dib’s head, guiding him in and out in an easy rhythm. Maybe this wasn’t so bad.As much as Zim was trying _not_ to enjoy everything that was going on down there, it was hard to ignore Dib’s hot breath and ecstatic noises and his roving tongue. Maybe he could get off like this.

When Dib next surfaced, eyes half lidded and fluids dripping off his chin, Zim was actually starting to feel close.

“Zim … this is gonna make me come …” he whispered breathlessly. “Do you want me to …?”

“Do it in me? _Yes_ ,” Zim replied, eager. Why? He wasn’t quite sure. He was operating on some deep-seated instinct that he couldn’t begin to understand. At the very least, Dib seemed to be on the exact same wavelength.

Dib shakily got to his feet, exhausted but desperate, and Zim had to help line their bodies up. Zim wrapped his legs around Dib’s waist again and Dib leaned down to kiss Zim with uncoordinated urgency. It only took three strokes for Dib to finish and a handful more for Zim to follow.

Dib flopped beside him and Zim stroked his sweat-streaked hair. Gears were slowly turning in the back of his mind about the situation he’d found himself in. He knew he probably should be concerned about this sudden turn of events regarding Zim’s abrupt hypersexuality, but he really couldn’t be bothered to hassle him over it. Zim was enjoying himself and Dib was … well, Dib was starting to feel a little burnt out. But he hadn’t felt this close to Zim practically ever, and whatever incidental weirdness occurred as a result was undoubtedly worth it.

“I hope ten minutes is long enough for you to recover,” Zim said, patting Dib on the head.

“I’m not getting any breaks tonight, am I?”

“Order a pizza, Dib. Once we get home, you’re not going anywhere for a while.” _  
_

_ii._

“Did you seriously just order an actual pizza?”

“You’re the one who told me to!”

“Not while I’m riding you, I didn’t!”

Dib set his phone off to the side and looked up in time to catch Zim rolling his eyes. “I told you it was going to take me a little while to be ready to go again, plus I’m _starving —_ ”

Zim’s mouth curved into a conspiratorial smile.

“I know what you could eat right now …” Zim trailed off as Dib matched him word for word.

“You’re so predictable,” Dib said with a smirk.

Zim glared, then flopped against him and bit down at the crux of his neck and shoulder.

“Ah! Zim!!”

Zim waited a moment to better gauge Dib’s reaction. If he wasn’t actively flipping out, there was a good chance he was actually into it. Now Zim just had to get him to admit it. 

“... harder …” Dib whispered.

“Any harder and I’m gonna break the skin,” Zim mumbled with his mouth full.

“I know.”

Zim’s eyes went wide. “... so it’s gonna be _that_ kinda night, huh?”

“Only if you want it to be,” Dib replied, but he was already pressing his hips upwards. Zim’s mouth was hot against his skin, teeth bruising him and threatening to make him bleed. Zim had his fingers tangled in Dib’s hair as Dib kissed his shoulder and bucked his hips hard against his body. Zim let out a little chirp as he took the entirety of Dib’s cock up inside him.

“Such a good little alien,” Dib cooed as he stroked Zim’s antennae with one hand and steadied his hips with the other. “Come on … I know you can bite me harder than that …”

Zim bit down and felt his teeth break the skin, the smell of blood suddenly overwhelming him. Dib let out an ecstatic little yelp from beneath him. Zim rubbed eagerly against him, legs entangled. Even if his cock had gone on an indefinite hiatus, it was still inside him somewhere, and the pressure and force of their hips making contact felt so good he could hardly see straight. His body tingled as Dib’s hand roved from his hips to his ass to his thigh.

Zim finally let go of Dib’s shoulder and wiped specks of blood from his mouth. Dib was breathing hard and loud beneath him, and — almost without thinking — Zim’s hand crept to his throat. Dib’s pulse thrummed under his fingertips. Zim leaned down, close enough that the beat of Dib’s heart was nearly deafening.

“How long do you think you could go without breathing?” Zim asked in his ear.

“Dunno … how quickly do you think you could get me off?” Dib whispered back, rolling his hips and gently fucking him.

“Wanna find out?”

“God, do I ever …”

He relaxed as Zim’s hand grasped his trachea, melting further when Zim’s lips brushed against his. He let Zim snake his tongue past his lips, then abruptly slide down into his throat. All Dib could do was make frantic little moans — wildly aware that he was losing oxygen as he did so — and hold onto Zim’s thighs as he thrust wildly into Zim’s body. Zim was breathing fast and shallow, the frequency of his chirps indicating he was already close to climax.

Dib’s ears started to ring and he frantically pushed himself towards the finish line. As his vision started to tunnel, Zim’s elated exclamations echoed in his ears. He gave a few desperate, greedy thrusts between Zim’s legs, kissing him desperately as he finally emptied himself out, body going limp and vision finally going dark.

***

“Dib?? Dib??? Please don’t be dead … I worked so hard to make you not be dead …”

Zim gave his cheek a frantic little series of slaps.

“Ow!” Dib shouted, head buzzing. 

Zim was suddenly hugging him so tight he could barely breathe again. 

“I thought I’d committed a murder!!”

“Oof … no, that’s just what happens when I don’t breathe for a solid minute,” Dib explained, rubbing Zim’s back reassuringly. “Did you get off? I passed out before I could tell for sure …”

Zim nodded against his neck, delicately tracing the teeth marks in his skin. “You’re okay?”

Dib laughed nervously. “I’m fine and that was … I guess we shouldn’t make a habit of it, but _damn_ it was fun.”

The doorbell suddenly rang and Dib groaned. “Dammit. There’s food. And I’m a fucking mess.”

Zim sat up and pulled Dib’s shirt on. It came down to just above his knees. “I’ll get it,” he said, pulling on his beanie and hopping off the bed. He got as far as the doorway and then abruptly froze.

“What’s wrong?” Dib asked, confused. 

“There is an absolute river of cum sliding down my leg right now,” Zim hissed between gritted teeth, thoroughly disgusted.

The doorbell rang again and Dib rolled out of bed, hurriedly pulling on his boxers. “I’ll take care of you in a moment — sit tight,” he said, patting Zim’s shoulder as he dashed past.

He sprinted into the living room and opened the door.

“Delivery for — _Whoa_. Dude. Are you alright?” the scrawny delivery boy asked, a slightly horrified expression plastered to his face. 

Dib sat there in utter confusion, trying to decide what, exactly, he was being asked about.

“You look like something big tried to take a bite out of you …”

Oh. Yeah. His shoulder. He probably should have snatched his shirt from Zim before he dashed out. 

Dib took the pizza boxes and laughed nervously. “Oh, that’s just from … the dog. He plays a little rough. It’s nothing.” Zim would be so proud of him, learning to lie on the spot like that. He’d have to be sure to bring it up later. 

The delivery boy looked skeptical, then looked down and jumped. “Wait … _that dog??”_

It was fortuitous that GIR had chosen that exact moment to show back up, bounding in from the darkness like a tiny portent of doom. He leaped towards the stairs, startling the delivery boy and catching his foot on the singular stair. Dib picked him up and tucked him under his arm. “Yup! This little guy’s bite sure is worse than his bark—”

GIR yapped happily. His master would be so pleased that he was working on his barks. He’d have to make sure to tell him later.

“He looks hungry so … uhhhhh … I’d better go! I tipped you online already bye!” Dib whirled inside and shut the door.

“Where have you been??” Dib asked GIR as he set him down on the floor.

GIR just shrugged. “We havin’ pizza for dinner??” he asked, bouncing.

“Yep, you’ve got a whole one to yourself, even!” Dib said, handing it over. He hoped it would keep GIR out of his and Zim’s way tonight. “Just don’t make too much of a mess.”

GIR hopped up on the couch and opened the box. “I promise … _nothing_!!” He cackled at his own joke as he turned on the TV.

“Alright, buddy. Have fun.” 

Dib snagged an entire roll of paper towels and made his way back to the bedroom, where a rather miffed looking Zim was standing in a puddle of jizz. Dib choked on a giggle. 

“Just what is so funny?” Zim demanded. “And what took so long?” 

Dib set their food on the bed. “The delivery guy thought I got bit by a dog,” he said, pointing to his shoulder. He laid down a few sheets of paper towels. “Alright, step over. And I’d be lying if I said your predicament wasn’t at least a tiny bit funny,” he said as he mopped up the floor.

“Well, It’s your fault, so all the cleaning is on you,” Zim grumbled.

“You’re cute when you’re making demands of me,” Dib said, turning his cleaning efforts towards Zim.

“Yeah, well, that’s good. Because I have a lot of— Ah!” He looked down and Dib’s face was under his shirt. The more concerning bit was that Dib’s tongue was on its way up his leg. “Dib!! Why do you insist on doing that??”

Dib stopped to kiss the inside of his thigh. “Because I love how you taste so I had to come back for more …” He slid his tongue inside and heard Zim moan softly above him. He grabbed Zim’s ass to steady himself and pressed his face deeper between Zim’s thighs, enjoying the way the taste of both of them mingled in his mouth. He felt Zim reach a hand down and run it through his hair.

“I hate that you’ve made me enjoy this.”

Dib sucked at him gently, then finally sat back. “Do you really?” he asked, looking a little concerned.

Zim sighed and sat down in his lap, relief sweeping over him when Dib wrapped his arms around him, tugging his shirt aside to kiss his shoulder.

“I feel like it _should_ make me totally disgusted … but when you’re willing to do this gross thing just because I taste so good …” He closed his eyes and purred softly, a smile spreading across his face. “… sometimes I just picture being out somewhere, and you can smell how aroused I am, so you just tear off my pants and tongue fuck me until I come.”

“In front of strangers?” Dib asked, a little surprised.

“The idea of you loving me so much that you’re willing to publicly fuck me just to show everyone that I’m yours is incredibly attractive,” Zim mumbled with a noncommittal shrug. He pulled a face and shifted uncomfortably. “Ooh, I just got myself turned on in the _worst_ possible way …”

“There’s a bad way to be turned on?” Dib asked as Zim blushed halfway down his chest. 

“Apparently!!” He rubbed against Dib’s leg and whimpered. “I need you so badly right now …”

Dib kissed his cheek. “I thought that’s just been your whole day.”

“It got worse all of a sudden …”

Dib stood up, scooping Zim up with him.

“Wow, you didn’t even flail when I picked you up,” Dib commented as he carried Zim over to the bed.

“I’ve got other problems right now, Dib!” Zim chirped frantically from his arms.

“Okay, okay … hold on …” Dib went to set Zim down on the bed, but his limbs were wrapped tightly around Dib’s middle. “Not like that, you weirdo …”

Dib tried to pry him off but Zim held on tighter, grinding against him.

“Diiiiib …” he whined.

“I’m trying to help you! Would you just let go and lie down for a moment?”

Zim finally let go and dropped the few inches onto the mattress, looking sullen. 

“If you would just _wait_ … for two seconds …” Dib said kissing down the side of his face.

“I don’t want you to do it _like that …_ ”

“Like what?”

“Standing between my legs…”

“How _do_ you want me, then?”

“All the way on top of me,” Zim whispered, eyes pleading.

“Completely vanilla sex, it is!” Dib said with a laugh, climbing on top of him.

Zim scoffed. “Why do humans have so many weird metaphors for sex?” he asked as Dib moved him further from the end of the bed and then proceeded to tuck pillows under him on either side of his PAK. “Ice cream … baseball … and what exactly do you have against this position??”

“I don’t have anything _against_ it … it’s just, you know … standard.”

“Well, it feels good to have you on top of me, so …” he trailed off, red-faced.

Dib kissed his scowl. “I want to make you feel good … especially when you look so sulky.”

“I’m not _sulky_ , Dib! I’m sexually frustrated because you won’t just … get inside me, already,” he muttered, embarrassed. “I want … I need to get you off … the feeling is driving me insane …”

Dib bit his lip. That same anxiety from before bubbled up into his consciousness. 

“Zim … it’s really starting to sound like …”

Zim opened and eye and scowled at him. “Like _what,_ Dib?” He didn’t feel like having this conversation again. Especially not now.

Dib looked sheepish. “... like you … want to mate with me …”

Zim could feel Dib’s cock jump against him slightly, and raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t mating what we’re doing right now…?”

“No, Zim, I mean like … _breeding_. With the end goal of having smeets.”

“I never _asked_ for smeets, Dib. I only asked to couple with you. And why do you keep getting turned on when using those other words for it?”

“W-What are you talking about?” Dib stuttered, suddenly looking extremely guilty.

Zim stared up at him curiously for a moment, gears turning in his head.

“ _Ohhh_ ,” he said softly. “I see …”

“You see _what_?” Dib asked, suddenly feeling the need to go on the defensive.

Zim smiled conspiratorially. “You’ve got a fetish for mating with me while I’m in heat, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been in my face about it.”

“I — that is _not why_ —”

“Say you haven’t got one.”

Dib gave him a strange look. “Huh?”

“You’re the worst liar ever,” Zim said, looking pleased with himself. “So just tell me you haven’t got a fetish for it, and I’ll drop the topic.”

Dib stared at him for several seconds, blushing furiously and attempting to find a loophole.

“... it’s _not_ why I keep bringing it up,” he eventually muttered.

Underneath him, Zim cackled. “ _Sure_ , it isn’t … you’re totally not thinking of _breeding_ with me while I’m _in heat_ ,” he whispered suggestively.

Dib squeezed his eyes shut. “Zim … I’m trying to be serious …”

“So am I!”

“If you would just level with me here —”

“I'm being very level! I’m just asking you to _mate_ with m— _oof_!” Zim exclaimed as Dib suddenly slid inside him. He arched his back in rapturous delight. “That’s more like it! Fucking finally …”

“If you keep saying shit like that, you might get me off a little more quickly than you want …” Dib panted, kissing him.

“Saying what? Things like, _‘Ooooh, Dib!’_ ” he shouted, an octave up from his normal speaking voice. “ _‘I’m an alien in heat and I just need to get mated by you!!!’_ ”

Dib fell on top of him, laughing. “Stop!! Zim, Jesus … You’re giving me the most confusing erection ever!!”

“But I _am_ giving you one?” Zim asked coyly, grinding against him.

“ _Yes_ ,” Dib admitted, pressing down against him.

Zim was still giggling, and Dib cradled his head and kissed him. “You know,” he said as he lazily rolled his hips against Zim, “this is what I always hoped it would be like to have sex with you; just stupid, giggly fun.”

“I’d hope you would also assume it would be _hot_ … it is _me,_ after all,” Zim said with a blissful grin. He wrapped his legs around Dib’s waist, moaning softly as Dib thrust upon between his legs. 

“I thought that was a given,” Dib murmured, stroking the base of Zim’s antenna. “Especially since you’re the only person I find attractive.”

Zim was aware, but he never got tired of hearing just how into him Dib really was.

“How lucky for you that Zim returns your inferior human _feelings_ ,” he said with a smirk. “I’m kidding … I wouldn’t give these feelings up for anything.”

He let Dib kiss him all over, loving how it felt to have Dib breathing hard against his neck while passionately thrusting between his legs.

“This feels better than ever,” Zim whimpered softly.

“You’ve only got 24 hours worth of data to compare to!” Dib laughed, nuzzling against him.

“Sure … but this is on another level entirely,” Zim said quietly. “Oooh, can you go a little harder? The impact feels so good …”

Dib braced Zim’s body against his arm, then thrust hard up into him. Zim gave an electric shriek.

“Oh!! Yes!!” He turned and kissed Dib’s arm. “Good human … _that’s_ how you make your alien lover happy.”

Dib kissed up to the top of his head, and Zim turned, hoping Dib would take the hint and pay some attention to his antennae. He purred with pleasure when Dib started kissing around the base.

“Your alien lover who’s absolutely desperate for you,” Zim whispered playfully as Dib ran his tongue along the length of his antenna, “because he’s _so helplessly in heat_ and _needs to mate_ with you…”

“Is this our standard for dirty talk, now?” Dib said breathlessly. It wasn’t lost on Zim that Dib had sped up a good deal in response to his words.

“That depends … will it get you off?”

“I mean, yeah—”

“Then it absolutely is.” Zim bucked his hips up to meet Dib’s thrust. “Plus, I love how your body reacts when I do things like _beg you to breed with me_ —”

His back arched as Dib whimpered and picked up the pace, leaning down to kiss him.

“I need you, Dib,” Zim whispered against his lips. He was sore, but that almost made the impact of Dib’s cock feel better every time it was shoved inside.

Dib inhaled deeply. “I need you, too … and you smell amazing.” Had Zim always smelled this good? Maybe it was some combination of pheromones and sweat … he didn’t much care, at this point. Zim chirped and trilled and purred under him, in between increasingly loud exclamations and amidst all the noise, it was easy for Dib to shut out the rest of the world and focus only on Zim’s body beneath him. Though he hoped that GIR had the TV up to its normal volume. 

“D-Dib …”

“Mm … what?”

“If I come first, you don’t get to stop…”

“Good … cuz I don’t want to,” Dib said as he resumed kissing every available inch of Zim’s trembling body.

Zim suddenly wrapped his arms around Dib’s neck, fingers grabbing fistfuls of hair, before pressing his hips upwards and giving desperate, muffled moans against Dib’s mouth. True to his word, Dib kept going, pounding up into Zim’s body as Zim’s tongue kept his mouth occupied.

Zim released his legs from Dib’s waist and instead planted his feet on either side of his hips so that he could thrust upwards towards with greater force. Dib whimpered softly, caressing Zim’s antennae and frantically pushing his body towards the edge. He didn’t have the time or wherewithal to warn Zim when his body, pleading for release, finally climaxed in a way that left him hungrily pressing against against Zim’s body, making a litany of small, soft noises against his mouth.

It took Zim a moment to realize what had just happened, but then he quickly put his hands on Dib’s ass and proceeded to grind against him. Nothing up to that point had felt quite as good as letting Dib fill him up. What he experienced was not so much an orgasm as it was a transcendental state of pleasure. By the time Dib collapsed on top of him, Zim was relaxed and trembling beneath him.

Dib nuzzled against his cheek. “Was that what you needed?”

“Exactly …” Zim murmured. “Now just do that ten more times.”

“You gotta give me a chance to get some calories in me,” he said with a kiss before rolling over and sliding the pizza box in front of him. “Especially before this goes cold …” 

He pulled out a slice and ate it over the box. Zim rolled his eyes but joined him. 

“Are you really planning on just … having sex all night?” Dib asked. 

“All weekend, if you’ll let me,” Zim replied. “Why? Do you not want to?” He sounded a bit nervous. This was uncharted territory, after all. He knew very little about Dib’s sexual appetite, save for what he had learned in the last 24 hours. 

“Hm? No … I keep thinking that I’ll eventually need to recuperate for a couple hours, but then that keeps on not being an issue at all. I was just thinking …” He trailed off. Zim didn’t seem to want to have a conversation about his sudden sexual awakening, and at this point, Dib felt like he had done his due diligence. He had brought up his concerns several times now, and if Zim thought they were baseless, then he wouldn’t pester him further on the issue. Mostly because dealing with a sulky Zim who simultaneously wanted both cuddles and to be left alone was emotionally taxing. 

“You’ve been thinking _what_?” Zim asked quizzically as Dib stared off into space, the cheese rapidly sliding off his pizza. 

Dib shook his head and shoved the slice in his mouth before the toppings could escape. “I was thinking that I’m happy you’re so comfortable with me now, and all I want to do this weekend is order in, get fat, and make passionate love to you.”

Zim smiled lovingly, internally relieved that Dib seemed to have finally taken the hint and ceased his absolute crazy talk. “Well, What a coincidence. That’s exactly what I want, too.”

_iii._

Zim was snuggled up on top of Dib, exhausted and content, enjoying the feeling of Dib’s cock still inside him.

“I love listening to your heartbeat,” Zim murmured, eyes closed, trailing his nails up and down Dib’s chest.

Dib kissed the top of his head and leaned in close. “You gonna eat that last piece of pizza, or can I have it?” he whispered with a grin.

“You’re ruining the mood, Dib.”

“What? I’ve worked up an appetite here!”

Zim rolled his eyes. “Fine. Take it. I’m starting to think that cheese and repetitive motion were a bad combination, anyway.”

Dib propped himself up on the pillows behind him and pulled the last slice from the box. Zim rolled off him and cuddled against his side.

“You’re getting crumbs all over the place,” he complained.

“We’re throwing all of this in the wash before bed anyway,” Dib said through a mouthful of cheese and bread. “If you haven’t noticed, everything is kind of a mess.”

He’d lost count of exactly how many orgasms they’d had between the two of them since they’d gotten home. Zim didn’t seem to want to quit and while Dib assumed there had to be some upper limit to how many times he could get off in a given period, they hadn’t hit the ceiling yet.

He hadn’t brought up his concerns again since being reminded that he was Defective set Zim off so badly. Besides, everything else was going so well. They could finally be intimate in the way Dib had wanted for so long, and Zim was proud of him for being attentive and taking care of his needs. Dib’s working assumption was that it simply took Irkens longer to sexually mature, what with their obscenely long lifespans. Hell, “it takes Irkens longer to mature” in general made an awful lot of sense, given what he knew about Irkens.

Dib looked over and Zim appeared to be moping. He shoved the rest of the pizza into his mouth, did his best to mop up the grease with a handful of napkins, and then turned back towards Zim.

“You get so sad-looking when my attention isn’t on you,” he said gently.

“Do not,” Zim pouted.

“Oh, yes you do.” Dib snuggled him close and rubbed his back, fingertips tracing around his PAK. “Can’t say I blame you … it feels so good to be close to you like this.”

Zim snuggled against his chest, took one of his hands by the wrist and moved it to the top of his head. Dib took the hint and played gently with his antennae, smiling as a purr tumbled up from Zim’s chest.

“You know,” Dib said, taking in all the alien things about Zim, “the first time I saw you out of your disguise was like … my sexual awakening.” Something about Zim’s — almost uncharacteristic — lack of words made Dib want to ramble. 

Zim perked an antenna quizzically without looking up and Dib laughed.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.” He tossed a leg over Zim’s hips and Zim pressed against him. “I’ve had a weird, unhealthy relationship to sex for a really long time. I think it was because I knew it was gonna be you or nothing, and that scared the shit out of me, you know? Because initially … well, I don’t have to tel you that we hated each other. Or at least, we were fighting so much there was no way I could see us ever getting along remotely well enough to be that close. Then I woke up one day and realized we were actually friends but what was the chance you were a weirdo like me who had the hots for aliens?”

He looked down to see that Zim was looking curiously up at him. He smiled and kissed Zim between the eyes. “Going from that point to dating—”

“It’s not ‘dating’,” Zim interjected softly. “You keep calling it that. But it’s not dating. You’re my mate.”

“What’s the difference?” Dib asked. 

Why had he never asked until now? He’d assumed it was down to either a cultural difference or a language barrier. He hadn’t realized that Zim genuinely saw their relationship structure as fundamentally different from most human ones. That he saw Dib as equal to an Irken partner.

“There’s no expiration date on this,” Zim replied, his voice still low. “You belong to me … I belong to you. And we’re just going to have to make it work.”

If this had come up at any other time, Dib might have been upset. These were not the conditions under which the relationship had been first proposed to him, back when Zim had initially awkwardly confessed his feelings.

“What about all those times you threatened to leave?” Dib pointed out. 

Zim shrugged. “I was bluffing, mostly. Also, if you had really been unhappy with me … If you’d been miserable … You’re a human. It’s unfair to hold you to Irken standards, as much as I think you’re up to them. I would have let you go. It would have hurt more than anything … but I would have done it for you.”

Dib was shocked into silence. 

“I don’t know much about my people before PAKs, before cybernetics … but the one thing I do know is that we mated for life. I never understood that, as a smeet back on Irk. And then I grew up and ended up here, somehow, and met you … and suddenly it made sense.” He suddenly pressed his face against Dib’s chest. “I still worry sometimes that I’m not what you want, long-term, and now you’ve got an Irken lifespan and—”

Dib shushed him and held him close. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Zim. It’s okay. You don’t have to worry.” He sighed. “I haven’t always been the best to you and I’m sorry for what an ass I’ve been, historically. I just hope forever is long enough to make it up to you.”

Suddenly Zim had his hands in Dib’s hair and his tongue in Dib’s mouth, moaning softly and pressing close. Dib instinctively held him close and kissed back with just as much vigor, peripherally aware that this was making him hard for what had to be the tenth time today.

“Sorry … feel free to ignore that …” he mumbled, blushing.

If there’s one thing Zim had gotten good at in record time, it was sliding their bodies together without ever having to reach down between them. He skillfully slid Dib inside him, then pulled Dib over on top of him.

“I don’t want to ignore it … I want you to make love to me,” Zim said softly. “Please …”

Dib cradled Zim’s head in his hands, kissing him and pleasuring him and losing himself in the din of their passionate love. Whatever misgivings or worries we’re still hiding in the back of his mind seemed to melt away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to write more but this ending for the chapter was just ... good and sweet. Adding anything else would sully it.
> 
> I feel like I should add that the whole “eating pizza in bed and fucking” thing was inspired by that one episode of Scrubs, which I guess left kind of a big impression on me. There was something so weirdly raw and real about it that I haven’t really encountered in popular media before or since. I’ve been chasing that flavor of raw realness in my own work. Here’s hoping I was able to deliver <3


	5. Aliens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim plays Pregnancy Signs Bingo and Dib grapples with his mounting concern that Zim's not as sterile as he thinks he is.  
> *********************************************  
> Check me out on [Tumblr](https://starlitvesper.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter (18+ ONLY)](https://twitter.com/starlitvesper) for snippets, updates, my art, ugly selfies and posts about my cats!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for emetophobes. It's not excessive, there's just a v* mention. (I feel the need to mention it, as a recovering emetophobe.)
> 
> Other than that ... enjoy the mpreg you've been patiently waiting for!

_They say just think of the children  
And imagine the world that we've willed them  
Is populated with weirdos to kill them  
And break their hearts _

[_-_ Typhoon, _Young Fathers_](https://soundcloud.com/rollcallrecords/typhoon-young-fathers-1)

* * *

The month following their marathon weekend of sex had seen Zim settle into a much more reasonable sexual appetite. Though that didn’t mean Dib never woke up to Zim having taken morning wood as in invitation to fuck him awake. Actually, it happened often enough that when Dib was jostled awake shortly before noon on the first day of winter break, his brain immediately registered Zim’s excited little chirps, determined there was no cause for alarm, and very nearly went back to sleep.

“Are you awake yet?” Zim panted, reaching back and grabbing Dib’s ass.

“Oooh, keep talking dirty to me like _that_ and I’ll climax in no time,” Dib mumbled, eyes still closed so he could focus on how it felt to have Zim’s ass slapping against him. ( _Very_ good.)

“I need you to put a little effort in … this is too much of a core workout on my end,” Zim grumbled as he relaxed with his back against Dib, breathing hard.

“I think you need the core workout … you’re getting a little chubby.” Dib kissed him affectionately and put a hand on his belly. “I’d swear you used to be more wiry than this …”

Zim made an offended noise.

“Mmm, you know, I could get used to it, thought,” Dib whispered as he held Zim against him and gently rocked his hips upwards. “If you put on a little weight, I bet you could absolutely smother me with your thighs …” He ran Zim’s antennae between his fingers and opened his eyes to watch his mate absolutely melt, hunching his shoulders with a blissed-out grin as he shivered happily. “I’d love to just get lost with my face between your legs, have you pin me in place while you cum in my mouth—”

“Ugh, Dib! Why??” Zim made a face but Dib ignored him. 

“—and make me swallow every last drop.”

“I don’t understand how you can make even the nastiest stuff sound sexy,” Zim said under his breath.

Dib leaned in close, hips _thwapping_ loudly against Zim’s ass. “Because you’re _beyond_ horny this morning …” He sucked on the end of Zim’s antenna for a moment, enjoying how Zim moaned his name, high and pleading. “And having a kink for letting me come in you is about the same as vice versa.”

“I don’t have a kink for —”

He was cut off by the unmistakable sound of Dib finally achieving orgasm. The way Dib curled around him and whimpered softly into his antenna — and yes, he had to admit, the way it felt when Dib filled him up — was enough to push Zim over the edge as well. Dib held him close and kissed him all over while little aftershocks kept him quivering.

“Then how come you always get off almost exactly when I do? And always make me finish inside you even when I’m going down on you? Actually, speaking of …” He suddenly shimmied down and shoved his face between Zim’s legs, making a terrific din as he tongue-fucked him with wild abandon.

Zim had grown to enjoy it, disgusting as it was that Dib tended to do it immediately after having finished inside him. But the warmth, the wetness, the dexterity of Dib’s tongue flicking and twirling along his walls, it all combined with the absolutely elated noises Dib made and left Zim begging him for more. Zim wrapped his legs around Dib’s head and listened as his moans grew higher and more frantic. Zim grabbed a fistful of hair and tugged him forward. His tongue slid ever closer to the sensitive area that, with just the right amount and kind of pressure, would leave Zim a shrieking, trembling, orgasming mess. Once Dib had ascertained that this was _a thing_ , he’d made it his personal mission to be able to locate it and hit it perfectly every single time. He pressed his tongue against it and licked hungrily as Zim finally experienced a second desperate and much needed release.

His legs went limp and Dib caught him and lowered his hips gently to the bed before gathering him up against his chest, settling back against the pillows, and cuddling him. The aftercare had become a requirement partially because of how woozy orgasms seemed to leave Zim of late, and partially just because of how good it felt for Zim to be held and for Dib to hold him. Zim gave a soft little trill and nuzzled under Dib’s neck before settling in to listen to Dib’s heartbeat. Nothing quite relaxed him as well as that. 

“The only thing I don’t like about that, is that I can’t watch your face when you come,” Dib said with a satisfied sigh.

“No, but I get to watch _your_ face when _I_ come, so that more than makes up for it,” Zim replied.

Dib gently stroked his antennae, basking in all of Zim's happy sounds as he snuggled close. “This is better than therapy. And cheaper.”

Zim was busy purring but perked a quizzical antenna.

“I’m just really enjoying all the sex and cuddling. I feel like we’ve had less issues in the past month. Like, when was the last time we actually fought?”

“Last night. When you were trying to solve that calculus problem wrong but wouldn’t take constructive criticism,” Zim said, refusing to move his head and as a result, giving Dib quite the side eye.

“Oh, that’s a _squabble!_ ” Dib said, brushing him off. “I mean like … oh, like when you thought that cashier winked at me and I had to drag you out of the store while you were trying to get them to fight you. And then you tossed me in the fountain for being too pretty.”

“I _know_ what human winking is meant to convey!”

Dib smothered a snicker. “What’s it meant to convey, Zim?”

“That you know something I don’t …” Zim grumbled moodily.

“Yeah. That thing would be that neither of us winked at each other.”

“You’re getting lippy, Dib,” Zim warned.

“Am I blaspheming you with the truth?”

Zim stuck out his tongue and looked away, trying to sulk as Dib gently played with his antennae. It wasn’t going very well.

“You know … Beginning of this year, you go all feral on me for trying to have sex with you. Now you whine if you go more than a couple days without it.”

Zim raised his non existent brows. “Yes? And?”

“I just still think it’s weird!”

Dib, ever the scientist, just couldn't let go of the inexplicable. Or, perhaps the perfectly explicable. But Zim certainly wasn't having any of it.

Zim rolled his eyes. “So you keep telling me …”

“I mean, there has to be a reason,” Dib said to himself, chewing his lip and staring at the ceiling.

Zim folded his arms and propped his chin up on them. “Of course there’s _a_ reason. You just seem to think it has to be a _good reason_ rather than a mundane one.”

“I don’t care if it’s because the planets in your home galaxy aligned or because you hit puberty. I still just want to know.” Dib, always the scientist, couldn’t seem to just leave well enough alone and let that weekend fade quietly into the rear view mirror. “What would have been normal sexual maturity for your race?”

“Dammit, Dib! Would you just shut up?” Zim snapped so forcefully that Dib jumped backwards and smacked his head against the wall.

“Ow! Geez, Zim … calm down. If you want me to stop you can _ask nicely._ You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

Zim curled in on himself. “Fuck … sorry …”

He was still except for the deliberately even rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

“Are you alright?” Dib asked, debating whether or not to touch him.

“Yes … no. I suddenly don’t feel well …”

“Oh,” Dib said softly. He murmured something under his breath as he reached out to rub Zim’s back. 

“Did you just say ‘ _poor thing_ ’?” Zim asked, raising an antenna. 

“It’s just a phrase, Zim. I swear I didn’t —”

“I know what it means. I’m just wondering which of us is feeling the most off right now …”

Dib had been getting weirdly affectionate of late. Zim had let multiple instances of Dib calling him “bug” as a pet name slide in the past week. Mostly because he found it almost sickeningly cute.

Dib tentatively cuddled against him. “I’m not making things worse, am I?”

The back rubs were a welcome distraction. “You’re fine … my innards are just doing backflips out of nowhere …”

Dib hummed a moment, then carefully got out of bed. “Sit tight.”

Zim tried to, but sitting still just made him unable to ignore how ill he felt. He nervously stroked his own antennae in an attempt to distract himself from his queasy guts. Dib was back in a flash, pressing an ice pack wrapped in a hand towel to Zim’s neck.

“Ancient human secret … if your nerves work like ours do, that’ll help.”

“Can you hold it?” Zim whined pitifully.

To his credit, Dib didn’t give him any shit for it. He arranged the mess of pillows and blankets so that Zim could lay more comfortably and helped him get settled. “Alright, come here … there’s a good bug,” he murmured gently.

“You’re very … _lovey_ out of nowhere, lately,” Zim said into Dib’s shirt.

“Should I cool it with the pet names?”

“No … I don’t hate it.”

Dib peered at him. “Do you _like it,_ though?”

Zim thought for a moment before nodding slowly against Dib’s chest. “Yeah … fine. I like it. It’s just a different side of you.” He wouldn't say it out loud, but it was a side he certainly liked better.

Dib wasn’t sure how to say it in a way that wouldn’t upset Zim, but he felt like he was falling in love all over again. Or maybe falling in love properly for the first time. Not to say he hadn’t loved Zim previously, but rather that he felt he was doing it the right way this time. There was no unspoken requirement when he cuddled his mate against his body, now.

“I caught something when we had sex in that bathroom a few weeks back, didn’t I?” Zim moaned pitifully.

“Oh, hush … you would have been sick way earlier if that was the case.” Dib cradled Zim’s head against him and stroked his antennae, running them slowly through his fingers. “I saw you doing this … does it help?”

“Mostly just a nice distraction,” Zim said softly, but in a moment he was purring despite himself and starting to feel a bit better. He shivered and snuggled closer.

“Sorry … I know that’s gotta be uncomfortably cold. But it confuses the vagus nerve or whatever squeedlyspooch-brain analogue you’ve got, which means you shouldn’t feel as queasy.”

“It’s working … just keep the rest of me warm.”

Zim settled with his head against Dib’s heart, letting the steady rhythm thrum against his antennae as he relaxed against Dib’s body. Dib gently massaged his lower back, warm fingers working out all the tension.

“You’ve gotten better at being my mate,” Zim said softly, hoping Dib wouldn’t take it the wrong way.

“Yeah … I kinda sucked at it before, didn’t I?” Dib said with a melancholy chuckle. “I don’t want you to think it’s just because we’re having sex now or something … or that I didn’t really love you before. I did. I was just stupid about it. Maybe I just finally grew up. Or maybe we both did."

Zim wrapped an arm around Dib and ran his fingers in circles while he thought. “I’ve never told you why I know so little about my people’s history, have I?” he asked softly. 

“No, you haven’t …”

“I’m sure the knowledge is locked away somewhere, but the rest of us just get the bits that are supposed to make us ashamed of our ancestors. Before PAKs and the Control Brains, we were a lot like … oh, what’s that flightless bird humans hunted to extinction? The idiot one.”

“You mean a dodo?”

“Yes, that one. We were like that … trusting and simple and easy for other races to hunt or kidnap. But the thing we were supposed to really despise our ancestors for were their feelings. How they could fall so in love that they mated for life, raising smeets together and staying bonded for millennia after that. And I wondered …” Zim suddenly sounded bitter, his hand grabbing a fistful of Dib’s shirt. “I wondered what was _so bad about that_ . And I was _stupid_ enough to open my mouth and _ask_ what was so bad about love. I got the absolute piss zapped out of me because that’s how you reboot a malfunctioning PAK. Guess who got shock therapy near-daily until he learned to just shut up?”

He pressed his face into Dib’s shirt as Dib hugged him gently.

“That’s awful, Zim … I’m so sorry …”

“That’s one thing I’ve enjoyed about going to college with you … people ask stupid questions and it’s okay. Curiosity is rewarded and encouraged. And ...” He fell silent for a moment. “Have you ever seen the way other people look at us, Dib?”

“What, like we’re the strangest thing they’ve seen all week?”

“They’re jealous … because we’re so openly in love and that’s something to actually strive for, here. On Irk, you’re denied every conceivable type of love at every step of your development. No parents or caregivers to supply it. Your peers are all incapable of empathy. Your leaders don’t care about you as a person. Imagine being the only person on your planet who feels something is missing. It’s so indescribably _lonely_ … you try and fill yourself with admiration and praise but all anyone sees is that you’re different … maybe _dangerously_ so. A _mistake_ that needs to be fixed.” Zim was trembling now. “And It’s not fair because … _they made me this way_. With a broken brain and … I don’t know for certain, but how much do you want to bet other Irkens aren’t even physically like me?”

“Everything that makes you broken on Irk makes you that much more lovable to me,” Dib said softly. “You really got shafted by your society. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault …”

“I know. But they’re not going to apologize so I’m apologizing on their behalf.”

Dib was forever shocked that Zim had made it off Irk without being damaged worse than he was. Even from the start of their relationship — which Zim had initiated — Zim was the one who was more sensitive and compassionate. Dib, who had also never had a source of love in his life, had damn near sucked Zim dry a month in, trying to use Zim as his sole source of physical and emotional affection to fill his years-long deficit. Zim had undoubtedly given the most out of the two of them, and now Dib hoped he could make up for that.

“Huh. I’m feeling better,” Zim said suddenly. “Your weird nerve freezing trick worked.”

“Are you up to going out for a bit? I thought maybe we could make a tradition of Christmas shopping.”

In years previous, Christmas season involved shopping together, wrapping things in increasingly creative ways together, and then trying to guess what was what come Christmas morning. This year, Dib was determined to fit things into as many weirdly shaped boxes as possible.

“I could be convinced … but you’re holding my hand the whole time unless I can figure out a better system to keep people from flirting with you …”

“This is what rings were invented for, Zim.”

“The fuck is a tiny collar around your most useless finger going to do??”

A shower, some bickering, and two hilariously terrible Christmas sweaters later, they finally braved the snowy roads towards the mall. A couple minutes in, Zim rolled down the window, rolled up his sleeve, and stuck most of his arm out into the freezing air. Dib glanced over briefly. 

“... What are you doing?”

“Creating a temperature difference to take my mind off my innards …” Zim said through gritted teeth.

Dib grimaced. “I probably should have assumed this morning wasn’t a one-time event …”

Zim made a pitiful noise, rolled down his window, undid his seatbelt, and proceeded to hang most of his body out of the car. All whilst Dib sped along the snowy roads at an inadvisable speed. He looked over quickly, looked back at the road, processed that all he had seen of Zim were his ass and legs, and promptly did a double take.

“Zim!! The fuck are you —”

He looked forward again just in time to see the light at the intersection turn red and traffic come to a halt in front of him. He promptly mom-armed Zim backwards into his seat before pumping the brakes and sliding to an uneasy halt. Dib was frozen for a moment, and Zim was so disoriented that he didn’t even fight against the arm that had him pinned back in his seat.

“Would you put your seatbelt back on??” Dib said anxiously, finally letting him go.

“Fine, but the window stays down!” Zim grumbled, swallowing hard. “Your car smells like two decades of asses have been in it.”

“It’s nearly twenty years old. Two decades of asses _have_ been in it. Since when do you care?”

“Since I noticed it today,” Zim mumbled back irritably.

“Migraine?” Dib offered up, unhelpfully.

“Thank you, Doctor Dib …”

Dib fell into an uneasy silence, looking at Zim out of the corner of his eyes as he divvied his attention up between examining him and driving. Zim watched as Dib nervously bit his lip.

“Don’t you dare say it, Dib,” he warned with narrowed eyes.

“... Are you —”

“ _DON’T.”_

“I’m just _curious_ if—”

“ _DO NOT._ ”

“Are you having weird food cravings!!” Dib spat it out as one word.

Zim suddenly looked perplexed. “Like what? All your food is weird.”

Dib was just glad to have shocked him into compliance. “I don’t know … like peanut butter on steaks or salted licorice.”

Zim perked up so abruptly that his knit hat almost sprung from his head. “Huh. Salt doesn’t sound as awful as normal … did you get those horrible salty caramel chocolates again last time we went grocery shopping? Maybe they deserve another try …”

Zim was usually adamant that salt, being the natural opposite to sugar, belonged nowhere near anything edible. Dib had weaponized this in order to have his own stash of candy at the base that Zim wouldn’t steal from him.

They finally turned into the parking lot and Dib coasted the car to a halt. He rolled up the windows and cut the engine, staring out the window at the bleak, greyscale scene in front of him, nervously avoiding Zim’s gaze. 

“Zim …”

Zim sighed. “Fine, just fucking say it.”

Dib looked like he would _really_ rather not.

“Say it and then listen to how _stupid_ it sounds out loud.”

Dib nervously combed his hair from his face. “If you were a human … I’d say you’re sounding kind of … _pregnant_.”

“But I’m an _Irken_ , and Irkens are _sterile,_ and most intersex creatures of any sexually dimorphic species are _sterile_ , so I’m probably … I’m _double sterile, Dib!!_ Negative smeets!” Zim sputtered, blushing furiously. “And besides … you’re a _human_.”

“Well … most of one,” Dib said softly. “Don’t forget … under the hood, a lot of me is more Irken than human.”

“Specifically, you’re partly _me,_ and _me is sterile,_ alright?” He crossed his arms and leaned against the door.

Dib made a conflicted noise. “You’ve got the equipment, Zim,” he said softly. “Would it kill you to just … make sure?”

“What is your _damage_ over this, Dib??”

“I don’t want kids!” Dib shouted back. “Or smeets! Or anything with my fucked up DNA running amok! I’ve got … _so many issues,_ Zim! And my dad hates me and Gaz barely talks to me and _you_ don’t have any family we can fall back on and _neither of us has positive parental role models_ and —”

“Alright! Point taken!” Zim gave him a bewildered look. “Fucking … _yikes_.”

Dib looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. He did the next best thing and dropped the back of his seat so he could stare moodily at the ceiling.

Zim gave him a withering look. “Only one of us is allowed to sulk at a time, Dib, and I started first.”

“Whatever,” Dib grumbled under his breath.

Zim visibly wilted. Dib had turned away, giving him the cold shoulder in a decidedly cramped space. Without thinking, Zim swung his legs over the center console and hopped onto Dib’s seat, squishing him against the door.

“Ow, Zim! What are you doing??”

Zim said nothing as he laid down on his side, one leg slightly over Dib, and nuzzled under his chin. He took Dib’s hand in his and held it tight.

“I know you mean well with the concern and all,” he said softly. “But you’re freaking me out and I promise you there’s nothing to worry about. I’m probably just a little sick or something …”

“He says as he _breathes_ all over me,” Dib muttered.

“Ugh. Sorry for _breathing_ in your _personal space_ , then, Dib,” Zim replied with biting sarcasm. He huffed and put his head on Dib’s chest.

Irritated as he was, it still felt good to be this close. He felt Dib’s hand finally relax and he stroked it gently with his thumb. It was more difficult to argue with each other when they were in close quarters, pressed together.

Dib reached down and gently tugged his hat off so he could stroke Zim’s antennae from base to end as he quietly sorted through his thoughts.

“Maybe I’m just making drama because things have been too good,” he said sadly. “I don’t really know what to do if I’m not worried over something.”

Zim just cuddled closer, trying to soak up as much body heat from Dib as possible and enjoying the way Dib self-soothed by petting him.

“Things have been really good, Zim,” Dib said softly, kissing the top of his head.

“So relax, okay? Let’s just enjoy having another semester behind us, and enjoy Christmas … enjoy … mmm, having each other …” Zim had begun rubbing his leg against Dib’s, the sensation on his inner thigh and Dib’s scent suddenly making him overwhelmingly aroused. It didn’t matter that they were in a car in a public parking lot; everything about Dib was enticing and Zim wanted him.

Dib slid his hand down to Zim’s lower back as Zim rubbed against him, whimpering softly. Zim tipped his head up to kiss Dib’s neck and chin, his hand making its way down between Dib’s legs.

“Need something?” Dib whispered as he watched Zim’s desperate movements through half-lidded eyes.

“Always,” Zim whispered back, trembling. “But it’s freezing out and I know I’ll be miserable if I’m damp … Sorry, I didn’t really think this through before I …” He looked down at his hand and abruptly stopped rubbing Dib’s cock through his jeans, looking sheepish.

Dib pushed Zim’s hoodie and shirt up, then paused a moment, smiling. “I genuinely don’t care what’s making you put on weight at this point … it’s adorable and I love it.” His hand brushed Zim’s belly before slipping down into his pants. Zim positively melted as Dib slowly slid a couple fingers inside him. “Mmm … just as I thought. You’re already soaked, Zim,” Dib whispered as Zim rubbed against his hand. Zim could hear the smirk in his voice. “And you know I’ll happily clean you up.”

“Gross …”

“You always say that, but you’re such a hopeless romantic, I know you enjoy it … it’s like the pinnacle of intimacy, right? What says ‘love’ more than my willingness to put my face between your thighs and lick you clean?”

Zim chirped softly as he fucked Dib’s hand. He couldn’t really argue with any of that and he didn’t particularly want to.

“Want to cuddle up in the back and I can make love to you?” Dib asked, already knowing what the answer would be. Zim seemed almost too turned on to speak. “Then make sure you’re all nice and clean before we go out … nothing says ownership quite like making me go out in public after drinking everything up from inside you, right?”

Zim squeaked out something incomprehensible.

“What’s that?”

“... You’re going to make me come …”

“Damn straight, I am. At this point, it would be rude not to. Now … be a good bug and get in the back and grab the blanket.”

He kissed Zim Quickly on the lips and sat up. Zim scurried into the back of the car, pulling the blanket from the trunk and rushing to strip naked from the waist down. Dib climbed back after him and did the same, tossing both their clothes in the front seat, out of the way. He sat with his back against the door, legs up on the seat, motioning Zim over. Zim sat down in his lap, pulling the blanket around them, then pressed in for a kiss as he wrapped his arms around Dib’s neck. The whole time he was rubbing against Dib’s cock, trying to take it inside himself without using his hands. Dib finally took the hint and held it still for him, his free hand on Zim’s hips, guiding him downwards. His tip grazed Zim’s dripping entrance and Zim attempted to drop himself down, but Dib caught him and lowered him carefully.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Dib mumbled between kisses.

“I’m f-f-f—Ah!” He abruptly hit the point where Dib’s cock stretched him to his limits.

“Shh-shh-shh … you’re okay. Just be gentle …”

Zim wasn’t exactly sure when Dib had become so gentle and affectionate, but he wasn’t going to argue. _This_ was the Dib he deserved and wanted to spend the rest of forever with; someone who would pull their weight in the relationship and take care of him.

Zim slowly lowered himself until he was kneeling all the way down, the entirety of Dib’s cock buried up inside him. His eyes were unfocused and his antennae quivered above his head.

“Oh, shit, Zim! What if someone sees you without your hat?” Dib said, suddenly realizing that, while he had parked in the boonies, they were still visible.

Zim pulled the blanket over his head. “But then I can’t hear you as well …” He pulled it over Dib as well, grinning stupidly. Dib laughed and pulled him into a kiss, one hand on Zim’s neck and the other on his waist. He gently tipped his hips up and Zim moaned into his mouth, tongue sliding deeper. Zim pushed their clothes out of the way and pressed their bodies together, enjoying the skin-to-skin contact. It briefly crossed his mind that Dib had a point about his weight. His belly squished against Dib’s in a way he was entirely unused to.

“What’s wrong?” Dib asked, pulled out of the kiss and sitting back. Zim had suddenly gone a bit still.

“I’ve got … the stomach pudge,” Zim replied with slight concern.

Dib wrapped him in a hug. “Yeah … and it feels great. Plus, it’s adorable. You should stay like that.” Dib resumed rolling his hips up into Zim, thumbing the ends of his antennae to coax a purr out of him. Zim rocked his hips in return, matching his rhythm to Dib’s, pressing down as Dib thrusted up. He rested his head on Dib’s shoulder and ran his fingers up into Dib’s hair.

Dib suddenly leaned down, pulled Zim’s hoodie aside, and gently bit Zim’s shoulder. Zim’s eyes fluttered and his breathing great faster. He trailed his nails down over Dib’s scalp. Dib’s mouth was hot against his skin, teeth pressing in gently. Dib continued gently, slowly fucking Zim but kept the pressure of his bite even, waiting for Zim’s input.

“You can go a little harder,” Zim whispered. “On both things.”

Dib thrust up hard enough to make Zim gasp, while clamping down on his shoulder and sucking greedily. He wanted to be sure to leave a mark that would last more than a day. Something to brand Zim as his own. He curled around Zim’s body as he bucked his hips upwards, letting go of Zim’s shoulder and running his tongue along the bruise and biting down again a little further up. He wanted to leave something Zim would have a hard time hiding.

Zim was trembling, body slowly going limp as he happily submitted to the sensory onslaught Dib provided. He ran his nails down Dib’s back, lightly, at first. Dib pressed up inside him, moaning. He released his bite on Zim’s neck, and Zim tilted his head to the side.

“Keep going …” he whispered.

“You’re not going to be able to hide that with even a scarf if I go much higher,” Dib murmured, kissing the bruises on his neck.

“I know. Keep going.”

Dib kissed him gently, running his tongue over his skin, then bit down with enough force to make Zim immediately go limp from the sheer sensation. With shaking hands, he ran his nails down Dib’s back, wondering how hard he’d need to press to draw blood.

He dug in and dragged his nails down Dib’s back, prompting a sharp exclamation as Dib bit down harder. Zim ran his fingers gently back up Dib’s flanks and into his hair. Dib finally released Zim’s neck, breathing hard and trailing strands of drool onto Zim’s shoulder.

“What was that for?” Dib panted. He didn’t seem upset, mostly highly amused and even more highly aroused. 

“Because you belong to Zim and I don’t want you to forget that,” Zim said softly.

Dib slowly pressed up deeper inside Zim, watching his eyes cross and his mouth hang open slightly as Dib easily slid completely inside him. “So no flirting with cashiers?” Dib asked with a smirk.

Zim grabbed Dib shoulders to stabilize himself before starting to ride his cock. “Absolutely… _NOT_ ,” Zim huffed out.

Dib closed his eyes and surrendered to the sensation of Zim slamming down against his hips. “Can we go to that Starbucks where the barista put a heart on my cup, at least?”

Zim started riding him harder, chirping and gasping and holding his shoulders so tightly his nails were biting in. “I swear to Irk I will put a collar on you, Dib … is that what you want?”

“Feeling a little jealous?” Dib whispered. Zim fucked him frantically and whined. As hot as Zim’s jealousy was, Dib didn’t want to push him too far. “You shouldn’t … who else could I do this to?” He ran Zim’s antenna through his fingers, gently flexing the scythe-like ends with his thumb and listening as a purr rumbled up from Zim’s chest. “Such a good bug … I don’t think anyone could fit around me the way you do.”

He met Zim’s downstroke with a sudden thrust of his cock.

“Ah! Dib!” Zim collapsed against him.

Dib held Zim’s hips steady as he bucked his hips upwards again and again, whispering frantic I-love-you’s to punctuate each thrust. Zim mumbled Dib’s name and shook as the movements overwhelmed his senses. He held Dib close and cried out as he climaxed, Dib following just behind him. He relaxed against Dib’s chest, trembling and sore, listening to Dib’s heart pound.

“Does that mean I won?” Zim asked breathlessly.

Dib laughed. “Yeah, you win at sex, Zim.” He gave him a quick kiss. “Alright. Want to try something new?”

Zim gave him a weary look. “Is it going to be something gross?”

“Well, I was _going_ to ask you to sit on my face—”

“Dib!” Zim stuck his tongue out in disgust. “Why are humans like this??”

“Aw, come on … just try it!” Dib begged.

“Ugh. _Fine_.” 

Zim looked miffed but Dib’s face lit up. He lifted Zim up and slid until he was flat on his back. Zim rolled his eyes but let Dib guide him into a kneeling position over his head. Zim crosses his arms.

“You can try it, but I don’t have to … oh!” Dib pulled Zim all the way down and wasted no time getting his entire tongue inside. His hands gently massaged Zim’s ass and Zim reclined backwards slightly, eyes closed. With gravity pressing them together, Zim could feel every breath, every swallow from under him. Dib’s tongue swirled over his walls, then down and out as he circled Zim’s entrance slowly.

By this point, Zim was fully lost in the sensation between his legs. His moans and chirps and purrs and frantic exclamations made Dib’s ears ring. He could feel Dib’s tongue sliding slowly into him, gently looking for the one spot he could press against to make Zim come on the spot. 

Dib gently rubbed his tongue up and down, and Zim shrieked with pleasure above him. Fucking Yahtzee. He pressed in hard, sucking gently as his tongue trembled up inside Zim’s pussy. He held Zim steady as his mate succumbed to an elated, frantic orgasm.

Zim slumped backwards as the waves passed, jumping as little aftershocks rippled between his legs. Dib gently helped Zim cuddle up on top of him, holding him gently as he shook.

“I hate that I enjoyed that,” Zim mumbled.

“That orgasm looked absolutely stunning,” Dib said with a smile. “And you tasted as good as ever…”

Zim snuggled against Dib, enjoying the heat between their bodies. He didn’t know exactly when his life suddenly turned a corner to where he had everything he ever wanted. He’d always hoped Dib could learn to be so gentle and caring, but this was better than he had ever imagined.

“So … shopping?” Dib asked. 

“You mean you didn’t take me out just to publicly make love to me in front of everyone?” Zim asked, eyes closed.

“Nah, but it’s a huge perk.”

Dib finally coaxed him back into his clothes, blushing when he realized how visible and obvious the bruising on Zim’s neck was.

“Shit, I’m sorry about that,” Dib said sheepishly. 

Zim shrugged. “You wanted everyone to know that you’re my human, yes?”

Dib nodded.

“Then this is perfect.”

Zim clung to Dib’s hand during the entire shopping trip, clearly taking no chances that someone might think they _weren’t_ dating. Even when they finally sat down at the restaurant for dinner, Zim sat beside Dib, head on his shoulder as they waited for their food.

“Are you alright?” Dib asked with audible concern. “You’ve been clingy today.”

Technically, Zim was always clingy. But the extended hand holding and the fact that Zim was nearly in Dib’s lap were excessive.

“I don’t like how other humans look at you,” Zim mumbled. “Like they think you could be theirs.”

“I don’t even notice it, Zim,” Dib assured him. Frankly, he had no idea what Zim was talking about. Dib didn’t like the way people looked at him either, but it was because they looked at him like he was insane. He was moderately sure that Zim was the only living creature who had ever been attracted to him. “I notice you being sulky, though.”

“Not sulky …” Zim said moodily.

“Nobody is gonna take me from you, Zim,” Dib said with a kiss. “You’re mine, okay? I’m very proud of that.”

Zim gave him an odd look. “Not arguing. But … why?”

“I finally caught the alien menace,” Dib said with a grin. Zim rolled his eyes, but seemed to perk up for the rest of dinner. By the time they finished and left to head home, he had stopped looking at every passing human with suspicion.

“Do you think we should actually try and cook for Christmas this year?” Dib asked.

“I thought the tradition was to order Chinese food,” Zim replied.

“It doesn’t have to be. We could learn to cook without burning your house down.”

Zim stumbled and winced slightly. “Dammit. My insides hate me again,” he grumbled.

“Are you going to be alright in the car?” Dib asked, looking him over with concern.

“Yeah … maybe. Ugh. I don’t know.”

Zim really hoped Dib wouldn’t decide that now was a great time to discuss his fertility. He was moderately sure that arguing would make him hurl. His hand slipped out of Dib’s and he slowed to a halt. 

“Ugh, slow down, Dib,” he groaned, leaning precariously. “I really don’t feel good …”

“Is there anything I can—”

Dib didn’t even finish his sentence before Zim was doubled over, puking into the bushes. 

“Oh, fuck … Zim … oh … oh geez…” All Dib could do was stand there in horror until Zim finally stood back up, breathing heavily. He fumbled in his pockets and pulled out a pack of tissues, handing them over.

“Thanks,” Zim said tearfully, sinking to the ground and wiping his mouth. 

“Are you alright?” Dib asked, rooted to the spot. Zim moaning about feeling ill and actually being ill were two very different things and Dib was suddenly very concerned.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I’ve never felt this sick before. I hate it!!” Zim let out a frustrated sob.

This level of moodiness was new, and it scared Dib quite a bit. He inched over and sat beside him on the pavement. Zim looked up at him with watery eyes and crawled into his lap, chin over his shoulder.

“I know I smell awful. I’m sorry,” he choked out.

“It’s okay,” Dib said softly. “Like I’d really get on your case for being sick. That’d just be low.”

“I feel gross,” Zim whimpered.

Dib rubbed Zim’s back, mind spinning. Zim couldn’t be pregnant. That was stupid. Laughably stupid, really. Occam’s Razor. The more likely explanation was that Zim had picked up a seasonal illness somewhere. Winter was the season for all sorts of flus, after all.

“It’s probably just food poisoning or something,” Dib finally suggested with a shrug. “Honestly, with how long you’ve been on earth and how sensitive you are, I’m shocked this has never happened to you before.”

“My PAK is supposed to prevent things like this!” Zim wailed. “I’m falling apart, Dib! What next? My atmospheric processors? My universal translator?? How much longer until we can’t understand each other??” He put his head in his hands. “I knew I should have taught you Irken sooner!!”

“I’m gonna need you to breathe …”

“ _I don’t know how many more breaths I have left in me!!!”_

Dib rolled his eyes, glad Zim couldn’t see his face for the moment. “You’re not _dying,_ Zim. But if your PAK is really supposed to prevent things like this, we can run diagnostics as soon as we’re home, alright?”

Over his shoulder, Zim nodded.

“Okay, then. Can you walk?”

Zim sighed and stood up. Dib got to his feet and dug around in his pockets for a moment before handing Zim a stick of gum.

“Thank you. My mouth tastes horrific,” Zim said with a shudder.

“My fault for suggesting spicy things when I was well aware you were feeling off. Let’s get you home.”

By the time they were back at the house, Zim had circled back around and was looking sickly again. Down in the lab, he leaned his head against the console, an uncomfortable cold sweat prickling at his skin, while Dib plugged the cables into his PAK.

“Computer …” Zim groaned.

“What?” it grumbled back.

“Don’t you ‘what’ me, you miserable piece of shit!” Zim growled. “Just run the fucking PAK diagnostics. Look for anything out of the ordinary on the electronic or biological ends. Just … You know,” he sputtered, flustered. “All of the ends!!”

Zim was scooched forward on his seat, so Dib sat down behind him and gently rubbed his back. Zim let out a relieved sigh. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. “All of that aches …”

The computer chimed suddenly and Zim looked up.

“Huh, my PAK seems to be ... perfectly operational,” he said with a confused frown. “All systems are normal.” He looked through the biological readings and spotted a couple chemical names he didn’t recognize. “Computer … Those new things … what are they?”

“A brief foray into existing resources suggests they may be … uhm … Irken gestational hormones,” the computer mumbled self-consciously.

Zim looked bewildered. The words pinged around uselessly in his brain, failing to connect to anything meaningful. “Come again?”

“They are … very possibly … pregnancy hormones,” the Computer begrudgingly replied.

Dib felt his blood run cold and Zim was perfectly still in front of him. 

“Computer! Run a diagnostic on _yourself!_ You’re talking craziness,” Zim snapped.

“Zim …” Dib squeaked out.

“It’s not possible, Dib!” Zim said, exasperated. “All Irkens are genetically modified with a Terminator Gene that ensures we can’t reproduce!”

“And you’re a _positive_ you’ve got that?” Dib asked, his gaze intense. “Because it sounds like nothing prevented you from being a non-standard sex and having a … unique PAK.”

“Computer … Check the copy of my DNA on file and search for the Terminator Gene.” Zim turned back to Dib. “It’s been built into our DNA for millennia,” he said quietly. “I’m sure it’s there...”

“Search complete,” the Computer announced, cutting him off.

“Results?”

“Terminator Gene not found.”

Zim opened his mouth and abruptly closed it when no sound came out. He sat there, gawping like a fish while Dib sat in petrified silence behind him.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Zim insisted. He hopped out of the chair and marched over to one of the tables on the other side of the room.

“Run a diagnostic scan,” he commanded as he climbed up on the table. “Then we can finally lay this nonsense to rest.” He folded his arms over his chest stubbornly.

Dib just stayed where he was, hyperventilating and trying to get a grip. He’d just managed to achieve some cognitive dissonance on the topic and now it was bean tested to its breaking point. 

Zim couldn’t be pregnant. That was ridiculous. Even if Dib _did_ have some Irken DNA, that didn’t make them compatible enough genetically to produce offspring, right? If rabbits and hares weren’t genetically similar enough, then there was no good reason he and Zim should be.

He watched as Zim waited for the scan to finish before sliding off the table to check the results, looking irritated with the whole thing as he poked at the screen. He pulled up an image, rotating it slowly and examining it. His antennae suddenly flattened.

“Dib …” he said, panic edging into his voice.

“What?” Dib’s voice felt thin and hollow in his throat.

“You need to come see this…”

Dib felt like he was floating across the room. He stood over Zim’s shoulder and tried to make sense of the 3D scan in front of him. None of the organs looked even remotely familiar. But his eyes were drawn to four small, curiously geometric shapes. 

“Are those …” Dib’s mouth went dry.

“They’re eggs,” Zim whispered. A yawning void of panic threatened to swallow him whole. “You … were right. Oh. Oh fuck. They're eggs, Dib ...”

“What … what are we going to do?” He gave Zim a look that suggested his brain was rapidly shutting down when confronted with this situation. “Is this a ‘we’ situation? Or just a ‘you’ situation?”

“Please don’t make me deal with this solo …”

“I would never,” Dib said without even thinking, pulling Zim back against him and holding tight. He didn’t mean for his hands to end up over Zim’s belly but they did. Zim lightly placed his hands over Dib’s and looked over his shoulder, biting his lip nervously.

“I can get rid of them,” he said quietly. “I know you don’t want kids. We don’t have to do this … I can get rid of them and sterilize myself in the process and then we never have to think about this again.”

“O-okay,” Dib stuttered. “If that’s what you want.” Seeing the eggs somehow made him less certain about his steadfast refusal to have children. Maybe he could do a better job than his father and raise the smeets in a supportive environment and prove he wasn't completely broken.

Zim was quiet, still staring at the screen. 

“... is that what you want?” Dib asked, taking care to be gentle in his tone. 

Zim shrugged, looking small and uncertain. “I don’t know. I mean … they’d … they’d probably be really fucked up, right? Since I’m defective and all … And I’d probably need to make them PAKs and … well, that’s just too much trouble. Besides, the idea of building personalities for them skeeves me out.”

“Are you sure they'd need PAKs?” Dib asked. “What did Irkens do before smeets were grown in test tubes?”

“I …” Zim looked bewildered. “I don’t know. They don’t teach us that. I mean, that’s information that’s probably available _somewhere_ …”

“Do you want to … try and find it so we can make an informed decision?” Dib asked cautiously.

Zim gave him an odd look. “Do you actually _want_ smeets? I thought you said you _definitively_ _didn’t_ want them?”

“Fuck, I don’t know anymore … do _you?"_

Zim shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know. Maybe I want them? It would … be kind of nice to have other Irkens like me around.”

“But they’d also be half me,” Dib said dubiously. 

“Yes? And?”

“I am made of disorders, Zim.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to life as an organic life form. Sometimes you’re a little fucked up.”

Dib nervously ran his fingers through his hair and Zim watched his body language curiously.

“What if I suck at parenting as much as my dad?” Dib finally whispered. “What if they’re _fine_ and then I take them and fuck them up?”

“I highly doubt you’re going to be chronically absent and … dismissive of their passions,” Zim said with an eye roll. “You’ll probably smother them to death with affection no matter what.”

“You’re talking like we’re going to actually do this,” Dib said nervously. “I mean, it _is_ up to you. It’s your body they’re going to be living in for the next … Uh, what’s the gestation period for eggs?”

“I have no idea.” Zim sighed and gave Dib a searching look. “If there's even a small chance we decide to do this ... I need you to realize that it might be my body but there is no way I'm doing this alone. I need to know you would stick it out with me. I'm not about to try and do this all alone.”

Dib pulled him into a hug. If he was going to have a family, he wanted to do it with Zim. Maybe it wasn't such a bad option. Maybe they could do it right. After all, they certainly knew what _not_ to do. “How many times do I have to promise you I’m not leaving you?”

“As often as required,” Zim replied, holding him tight. “Preferably daily.”

“Fine, then. I’m not leaving you, Zim,” Dib said gently. “Even if you decide to let yourself get all round and hormonal.”

“Hello? Did you see me earlier?? I’m _already_ hormonal.”

“And I haven’t left yet, have I?”

“Hmph … not _yet_ …”

“Not _ever._ ” He looked back at the screen, trying to internalize the full extent of the situation. “So … who do you think has information on pre-cybernetic Irkens?”

“It almost certainly exists somewhere on Irk,” Zim said. “But I don’t know if it’ll be worth the risk of someone recognizing me. I think the next most likely place would be Vort.”

“Isn’t that still Irken-controlled space?” Dib asked skeptically.

Zim looked nervous. "It is. But it's the most likely spot and I know enough to get us there and back safely."

"Never a quiet Christmas break, huh?" Dib said with a sardonic smile.

"Not with me," Zim said. "Are you sure you made the right choice? Spending your life with me? It's probably never going to be quiet."

Dib hugged him close, one hand gently rubbing his belly. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Action-adventure smut? Oh, yes!
> 
> Also ... there is a definite reason for Dib's change of heart. I'm gonna dig deep on some Irken biology lore in the coming chapters.


	6. Take No Prisoners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Landing on Vort doesn't exactly go as planned.  
> *********************************************  
> Check me out on [Tumblr](https://starlitvesper.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter (18+ ONLY)](https://twitter.com/starlitvesper) for snippets, updates, my art, ugly selfies and posts about my cats!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for ... Sex! In space!

_You're like the opposite of all of my mistakes_  
_Tear down the biggest walls and put me in my place_  
_I know, that kind of comfortable you cannot replicate_  
_You feel like home_

\- [Galantis, _Bones_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y0csiqdTv-c)

* * *

Vort was a good few days out, which meant that once they’d packed up and left Earth behind, there wasn’t much to do outside eat, sleep, fuck, and watch the stars trail by. 

Not that Dib was complaining at all. Aside from the whole “flying straight to Irk’s top research prison without a solid plan” thing, this was exactly how he wanted to spend winter break; Zim in his lap, blanket wrapped around them, and 10 centimeters of glass separating them from the cold, merciless vacuum of space.

“It’s beautiful out there,” Dib said softly, as if the stars might hear him and scatter. “I always forget, when we’re stuck on earth, how amazing things look with no atmosphere to get in the way.”

He absently slid his hands under Zim’s shirt, resting them on his belly.

“You keep doing that …” Zim murmured as he looked up and nuzzled under Dib’s chin.

“Mm?” Dib looked down, eyes hazy, still a bit awestruck from the view.

Zim slid his hands over Dib’s and looked out at the shimmering expanse beyond the confines of the ship. After so many years spent on Earth with infrequent trips outside the solar system, he had also forgotten exactly how stunning the open expanse of universe could be. “You keep putting your hands there …” he said, running his thumb along Dib’s.

“Oh … should I not?” Dib asked, starting to pull his hands back. Zim gripped them and placed them back on his stomach.

“It’s fine. Kind of nice, really. It’s just that I was wondering …” He sighed and looked up, concern etched in his brows. He would have expected the prospect of smeets to turn Dib into a nervous wreck. But unless Dib had suddenly learned how to actually hide his feelings, he appeared to be taking it all with shockingly good cheer. “How are you handling things?” Zim finally asked, cutting right to the chase.

Dib leaned his chin over Zim’s shoulder. “Which part of things?”

“Which part of—? The  _ big  _ part of things, Dib!” Zim said desperately. “The whole reason we’re fucking off to Vort and the reason I’m all pudgy and … and …”

“And inexplicably irate?” Dib finished with a wry smile. He hugged Zim, who was attempting to sulk, and pulled the blanket around them. “The smeet part of things had me freaked out at first. But now that I’ve had time to process it a bit … I dunno.” He kissed the back of Zim’s neck to stall a moment while he found the words. “I know a lot about how  _ not  _ to parent. And …” He leaned over Zim’s shoulder again, looking up and smiling in a wistful way that Zim had never seen before. “If we decide to do it … you’d make such a good mom, Zim.”

“You really think so?” Zim asked nervously.

Dib nodded. “Of course.”

Zim gave him a quizzical look.

Dib blushed and looked away. “I dunno … you’ve always taken care of GIR like he’s your kid. You’ve got more patience than you give yourself credit for. You’d be good with smeets.”

Zim wished he knew where Dib’s blasé confidence had come from all of a sudden, so he could get some for himself. He was somehow less certain of things than he had been when staring at the image of the eggs in the first place. Sure, he wanted them. But that didn't necessarily make it a fantastic idea to go through with it.

Zim shifted and managed to rub against Dib’s cock at the perfect angle to result in immediate arousal. Zim heard Dib’s soft little whimper, put two and two together, and rolled his hips backwards. He hoped that fucking might ironically be a good distraction from the topic of his ongoing pregnancy. 

“You always sleep better when you get off, right?” Zim asked, a smirk on his face as he thrust his ass against Dib’s crotch.

Dib reached around and pressed his palm between Zim’s legs. “I do … and I think you do too.”  Zim purred with pleasure in front of him, knowingly egging him on.  “I can feel you soaking through your pants … anything I can help you with?” Dib slipped a hand down the front of Zim’s leggings and slid his fingers back until they easily made their way up inside. Zim squirmed in front of him, holding his hand in place and fucking it. Desperation had never been more adorable.  “Is that all you want?” Dib asked against Zim’s antenna, letting his lips brush against it. He felt Zim shiver and press down to grind against his hand.

“I … I want you to make love to me,” Zim begged, reaching backwards to tug at Dib’s boxers.

“I’m not allowed to fuck you?” Dib asked with a laugh as he kissed down the side of Zim’s face.

“No … I want you to be thinking about how much you love me every second that you’re inside me,” Zim whispered, staring up sincerely. “Even if you’re holding me down and pounding me.” He rolled onto his back, letting Dib help divest him of his leggings and shirt. 

“I’m  _ always _ thinking about how much I love you, you know,” Dib said, pulling off his own shirt before hastily yanking his boxers off. He rolled over, leaning on his elbows and looking down at Zim, who was fidgeting nervously.

“If I still had use of my dick, I’d be using it to get yours inside me about now,” Zim mumbled, blushing.

“You’re so cute when I make you wait.” Dib kissed his cheek. “Getting all hot and bothered…” He pressed his cock against Zim’s crotch and rubbed against him. Zim gripped his shoulders and let loose a series of high, pleading moans, peripherally aware that he was leaving a pretty sizable puddle on the sheets already.

“Wow, and I’m not even inside you yet …” Dib murmured into his antenna.

“My cock is up in there somewhere, even if you can’t see it,” Zim panted. “And when you’re pressing and rubbing against it … oh, fuck … I don’t even have the words for how good it feels …”

Dib lifted his hips off Zim and knelt over him, kissing across his body. Zim hooked his legs around Dib’s midsection and lifted the lower half of his body off the bed in his attempts to pull Dib back down on top of him.

“Quit messing around …” he whined.

“How badly do you want me?” Dib whispered.

“ _ So badly  _ … Dib …  _ please _ …” He was trembling, the need to get off driving him crazy.

“I love hearing you beg for it,” Dib whispered as he slid between Zim’s legs, stopping halfway in.

“You’re going too slow,” Zim complained. “I want you to pound me …”

Dib kissed his cheek. “You always  _ say  _ that but then you always jump a mile when I do. I’m warming you up.”

“But I  _ am  _ warmed up, Dib!!”

“No, you’re hot and bothered,” Dib replied with a grin. “There’s a difference.”

“Diiiib ….”

“You want all of it?” Dib asked playfully. Zim nodded excitedly, and Dib pressed the rest of his hard member up inside Zim in one quick thrust, eliciting an impassioned howl from beneath him. Dib pulled back and slammed up inside him a second time. Zim’s breath came in short, staccato bursts.

“You gonna come before I even get close?” Dib asked as he rolled his hips.

“Worried I’m going to lap you?” Zim countered, eyes hazy. “I’ve got the benefit of being able to get off more than once in … unf …  _ oh, fuck _ … in quick succession,” he panted.

Dib pulled out and then slid back in, slowly working up a rhythm that had Zim shrieking his name in no time.

“Good thing we’re surrounded by the vacuum of space … you’re one loud little bug,” Dib quipped, putting a finger under Zim’s chin, forcing him to look up. “Maybe I was wrong to call you a space cockroach … you’re more like a cicada.”

“Don’t those things only come out once every 17 years to fuck or something?” Zim asked, batting his hand away. “Sounds like hell.”

Dib took one of Zim’s hands in his, slid their fingers together, and then pressed them into the mattress as he leaned in for a kiss. He felt Zim’s other hand leave his back and and make its way down between their bodies, stopping about where Zim’s cock would normally be. Dib could feel Zim rubbing furiously and his moans suddenly reached an abrupt crescendo.

Dib had to stop to take in the scene unfolding beneath him.

“Are you seriously sitting there masturbating while I’m inside you?” he asked with a laugh.

“What? I … I need the cock stimulation …” Zim said, shrinking with embarrassment. “I told you I can still  _ feel it  _ even if you can’t see it.”

Dib held Zim’s hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Does it feel better than getting pounded?”

Zim squirmed uncomfortably. “... I guess?”

“Want me to just stay still so you can rub against me?”

“I mean … I know it probably doesn’t do much for you,” Zim said, sounding small and looking nervous. “Not compared to railing me, at least …”

“Who cares?” Dib said as he kissed down the side of his mate’s face.

“I’m supposed to get you off, though …” Zim said tentatively.

“Mm … says who?” Dib asked as he kissed just under Zim’s chin.

“I thought that was just kind of the expectation, when doing things this way …” Just when Zim thought he finally had a handle on how this stuff worked, Dib started throwing in curveballs.

Dib popped his head up to give Zim a concerned look. “Did I do something to make you  _ think _ that was how this worked?”

“Not _you_ … I watched … a non-zero amount of porn when I was trying to be okay with having sex with you,” Zim admitted. He crossed his arms over his burning face, only for Dib to attempt to extricate him half a second later.

“Sounds like you were watching the wrong kind,” he said gently as Zim peeked out. “I just enjoy making you feel good. That’s enough for me.”

Zim mumbled something to himself and Dib tipped his chin up again. 

“Do I need to remind you of the amount of time I went just finger fucking you purely to make you happy?”

He pressed down, grinding gently and smiling when Zim, a breathy trill escaping his lips, reciprocated. His antennae bobbed above his head, tangling in Dib’s wild locks. Dib reached up and combed them out of his hair, running his fingers down the length of them. “I love watching how you arch your back when you’re close, the look on your face as you pleasure yourself with me, listening to all the cute sounds you make and the way you shout my name when you feel really good …”

He pressed in a little harder and Zim responded with an excited series of trills and chirps as their bodies melded together. Under his breath, Zim mumbled a soft and repeated, “Oh, Dib …”

“My good little bug,” Dib murmured between kisses. “I’m so glad you’re mine …”

Zim moaned. “Say it again … that I’m yours …” he slammed his hips against Dib’s body, grinding hard and holding tight to his human. He almost didn’t care whether or not he got off; there was a pleasant, warm little tingle running from between his legs to up his spine, and he was more than happy to bask in the feeling. 

“You’re mine, Zim,” Dib whispered up and down his antennae as Zim wriggled beneath him, chirping frantically. “I want you completely to myself for the rest of forever.”

“I need you to  _ mean it _ ,” Zim whispered so softly that Dib almost missed it.

“You calling me a liar, space boy?”

“No … I just need you to  _ promise me _ …” Zim trailed off with a high exclamation as Dib pressed his cock a fraction of a centimeter deeper.

“Promise you what?” Dib asked, hot and close, pulling Zim’s attention back to his rapidly fading train of thought.

“That you only want me,” Zim whispered, breathless.

“I promise you’re all I’ve ever wanted,” Dib mumbled against Zim’s skin as he kissed down his jaw to his chin. “Everything I’ll ever need. Oooh, and you fit so tightly around me … why would I ever need someone else? No one could be as perfect as you.”

Dib didn’t even need to dig that deep to find ways to praise Zim. It felt as easy and natural as any other conversation … just with the added benefit of making Zim hopelessly turned on. As if on cue, Zim whispered a soft and timid, “I’m going to come …”

Dib cradled his head. “Good. I can’t wait to see your face when you do …”

It was hard for him to even recall the days when he would have been miffed about servicing Zim for nothing in return. As Zim bucked his hips up underneath Dib, eyelids flickering and mouth stuck in a blissed-out little “O” of ecstasy, Dib wanted nothing more than to make Zim happy and pleasure him senseless.

Zim mumbled something breathy and unintelligible, then ran his fingers through Dib’s hair, gently tugging him downwards and leaning up so that their lips met. Dib gave a gentle thrust against Zim’s dripping entrance.

“Ah! Dib …”

Dib kissed his mouth and chin and between his eyes. “I’ve got you…”

Zim was panting hard, whimpering and chirping and murmuring softly to himself.

“I love you, Zim,” Dib whispered at the base of his antenna.

“That feels so good … Say it again,” Zim begged, trembling and beginning to feel frantic for release.

He kissed Zim on the lips slowly, in contrast to Zim’s frantically rocking hips. He nipped Zim’s bottom lip gently, and whispered a barely audible “I love you” against Zim’s slightly open mouth.

That was all it took to make Zim into a squealing, climaxing mess beneath him. He clung to Dib’s body for the duration, and Dib couldn’t help but notice how good the extra padding on Zim’s body felt. Zim was still shaking with residual orgasms by the time Dib pulled out and snuggled Zim up against his body.

“Sorry for the damp sheets,” Zim mumbled apologetically, eyes closed.

“I’m sure we’ll live,” Dib murmured. "It's a large bed."

Zim nodded, then abruptly sat up. “Oh, fuck, I can’t fall asleep before I do something for you …”

“Sure you can.” Dib pulled him back down and cuddled him aggressively. “Come on, Zim. It’s been a long day. Let’s go the fuck to sleep.”

“You’re still hard,” Zim pointed out. “I feel mean leaving you like that.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dib mumbled, already settling in and hugging him like a security blanket. 

“Dib…” 

One of Zim’s greatest skills was his ability to sound heart-wrenchingly morose. Dib looked down and felt himself pulled into his mate's liquid raspberry gaze. Zim pressed close, turning on the puppy dog eyes full-blast. “Let me do something for you …”

Dib sighed and got up on his hands and knees over Zim, taking Zim’s hand in his own and guiding it towards his cock. Zim looked up at him curiously. Dib had spent months pleasuring Zim with his hands but had never once asked him to reciprocate. This was somewhat uncharted territory.

“You look sore and wiped out,” Dib said softly, “so if you want to do it this way, I’m not going to argue."

Zim nodded, blushing. Dib guided his hand up and down his cock, then released it and allowed Zim to jerk him off as he leaned down to run his lips over Zim’s antennae.

“You’re so good at that,” Dib moaned under his breath. He stroked one of Zim’s cheeks while peppering the other with kisses, his nose pressed against Zim’s skin. His mind floated in a haze occupied only by the soft noises Zim made and the feeling of Zim’s fingers wrapped around his cock. It was rare that the only sounds between the two of them were shallow breaths and low grunts and soft exclamations of pleasure, and it was nice to be able to completely loose himself in the sensory experience. 

Zim turned and kissed his way to Dib’s lips, forcing them apart with his tongue. Dib let him slide his tongue down the back of his throat, moaning and shivering with pleasure as Zim gently played with his hair. Dib was so completely spaced out that the sudden relief that washed over him as his cock finally emptied out caught him completely off-guard. By the time he was able to move his hand downwards, the damage had already been done. 

Zim’s tongue recoiled in record time. “Oh, no … I do  _ not  _ like that …”

“The cum on your belly or me kissing you?” Dib said as he sat up to search for something to clean Zim up with.

“Wanna take a guess?” Zim grumbled as Dib mopped him up. Dib leaned down to give him a genuine kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you for putting up with it so that I could have the best hand job ever,” Dib mumbled against his cheek, before tossing the tissue at the trash and missing. Getting up sounded like work, so he instead pulled Zim against him and tossed a leg over his hip. “There’s so much more of you to cuddle,” he whispered as Zim purred contentedly against his chest.

It was still a foreign thought to consider that Zim was only this adorably chubby because he had four future smeets growing inside him. Dib let his mind wander to the possibility of having a family with Zim; raising a gaggle of little alien children who were ignorant of Irk and its terrible legacy, who didn’t know what it meant to be defective, and who would be capable of fully loving both Zim and himself. It didn't sound so bad. Really, it sounded like it might fill some of the holes that had been ripped open in his life when he left home under less-than-ideal circumstances.

“You know … I think we should do it,” he blurted without thinking.

“Mm?” Zim was mostly asleep at this point, having satisfied his mate and thoroughly burned himself out.

“I think we should have the smeets,” Dib whispered, butterflies filling his stomach.

He could feel Zim abruptly come to. “Pardon?” he chirped, antennae springing up over his head so fast they narrowly missed putting Dib’s eye out. “What about the smeets, now?”

“As long as you want it … I want to have a family with you, Zim,” Dib murmured self-consciously. “Something about you being so …” He ran his hand down Zim’s ass to his thigh. “I dunno … so soft … just had me thinking. And I want it.”

“You  _ are _ aware that all pregnancy is inherently a little gross, right?” Zim asked nervously. “It’s not all going to be about me being round and soft and huggable.”

“Who gave you moral support back rubs while you puked your guts out this morning?” Dib asked.

“... You did,” Zim sighed. He should have known better than to assume the grosser aspects of this situation hadn’t occurred to Dib.

“It’s not just about you being outrageously cute right now … I want to take the plunge with you. I love you and … I just know I’ll love the smeets, too.”

"You're sure?" Zim asked, looking for any signs that Dib might not be all in.

"Never been more sure in my life." 

Well. That settled that.

Zim ran his fingers in spirals over Dib’s arms. “... I already came up with names for them, you know …” he whispered. “Do you ... want me to tell you?”

Dib nodded, his thoughts suddenly loud and close. From his time dabbling in magic, he had picked up on just how powerful a concept it was to  _ name _ something. It was no small thing that Zim had already gone ahead and chosen monikers for the things that couldn’t have been more than little blobs of cells. He had given them some sort of tangible form outside of a greyscale image on a screen. Zim might not have known the implications of what he'd done, but it spoke volumes about what he wanted, nonetheless.

Zim took Dib’s hand in his. “They’re Ivy, Zig, Fey, and Pippin,” he said softly, pride in his voice. 

There was a strange sort of vulnerability to him that Dib hadn’t seen before. While it took him completely off-guard, it was so endearing that he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He wrapped tight around Zim and kissed the top of his head. “How’d you come up with those?” He went back to playing with Zim’s antennae, loving how it felt when Zim shifted closer. Their bodies fit together so perfectly, even with Zim as soft and curvy as he was rapidly getting.

“Well … as far as earth plants go, ivy’s always been a favorite …”

“Huh. Is it really?” Dib didn’t even know Zim _had_ a favorite earth plant. Or any plant, for that matter.

“Well, yeah. Just think about what ivy does. It digs its little root-y appendages in, climbs up a vertical surface, and then it covers everything and takes over. I can respect that.”

Dib smiled against Zim’s neck.

“I got Zig off my favorite Bowie album …”

Dib was more than a little surprised. How had he never known Zim had a favorite plant or what way his musical tastes leaned? It occurred to him that, while Zim had no issue talking about things he was proud of or offering up unsolicited opinions, he rarely spoke frankly about things he _liked_. Dib made a mental note to harass Zim for mundane details more often.

“ …  _ The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars _ ,” Zim continued, oblivious to Dib’s internal revelation. “It’s the world’s best album name and there will be no convincing me otherwise. Despite the fact that there are no spiders on Mars.” He glanced at Dib. “I checked,” he added with authority. 

“You are the resident Mars expert.”

“Fey is from that … Star … Weasel game you used to always make me play with you.”

Dib’s mind drifted to the hazy summer before college spent playing emulated games on his computer. Being 18 and restless and playing with Zim’s antennae to distract him when it was his turn with the controller. The fact that Zim put up with it for so long either spoke to his love for Dib, or his love of _Star Fox 2_.

“But Fey was my favorite character. You always played Miyu,” Dib pointed out with a playful smirk.

A strange sort of darkness flickered over Zim’s expression and he suddenly tensed against Dib’s body. “That’s … a little _too close_ to the name of someone else I used to know,” he murmured, looking away. If Dib didn’t know better, he’d have said Zim almost looked guilty. 

“Oh?” Dib raised his eyebrows. “Do you … want to talk about it?”

Zim shook his head. “Not now … not when I’ve already got Irk on my brain.” He looked off out the window, unmoving and bathed in starlight.

Now Dib remembered why he hadn’t made a habit of harassing information out of Zim. He never knew which topics were going to make him go still and quiet for the next hour.

Dib ran his fingers down Zim’s cheek, startling him out of his momentary reverie. “Do I have to ask where you pulled the name Pippin from?”

It took Zim a few seconds to fully regain the thread of conversation. “Oh … yeah. Sorry. _Lord of the Rings_. I can’t tell him and the other one apart, but Pippin has the better name.”

“Naming your kid after a hobbit?” Dib said with mock horror. “Bold move.”

“ _ Our  _ kid, Dib! And between the two of us, they can’t be  _ that  _ short!” Zim said defensively. “Plus … that won’t matter on Earth. We’re raising them without any Irken propaganda or baggage. I’ll love them no matter how short they are.” He gave a little nod just to drive home that he  _ meant it _ . 

“So, It’s settled,” Dib murmured as Zim settled in against him. “We’re keeping them. This is now just recon to figure out how we’re going to make it happen.”

Zim looked up, ruby eyes sparkling in the starlight. “Thank you,” he whispered, nuzzling against Dib’s chest. “You won’t regret this. I promise.”

II.

“Hey … wake up …”

Dib felt himself slowly fade back to consciousness but his eyes stayed closed. Maybe if he stayed quiet, Zim would let him go back to sleep.

“We’re getting close …”

“Mmfuck yeauh we are,” he said thickly through sleepy lips. So much for maintaining the illusion of sleep. Oh well. It was worth it.

“Why are you like this?” Zim grumbled, giving his cheek a sharp little poke before he could drift off again. 

Dib begrudgingly opened his eyes, only to be greeted with the same silvery starlight he had fallen asleep under. How long had he been asleep?

“I forgot how disorienting space is,” he mumbled, pulling the blankets up and over his face. 

Zim sat down heavily and stroked the tuft of his hair that stuck out. “Hm?”

“I hate not knowing what time it is … I could have been asleep for 10 minutes or 10 hours and I have no clue which.”

Zim gave a beleaguered sigh. “Ship’s Computer?”

“Yes?” the Computer answered, sounding more eager to help than the base’s computer ever did.

“Dawn simulation, please. Set it to ‘Earth’ for my homesick human.”

“I’m not _homesick_ ,” Dib protested. “It’s just really messing with my circadian rhythm when everything looks the same. I’m drifting to Martian time. We’re going to get back and I’ll be synced to a planet with an extra 37 minutes in the day and it’ll be all your fault.”

“Oh, no,” Zim said with a smirk as the ceiling slowly turned the dusty blue of an impending dawn. “I can do you better than that. A Vortian day is 53 Earth hours long.”

Dib groaned. “Great, so I get to be permanently discombobulated.”

“You’ll adjust,” Zim said, patting him on the head reassuringly. “Now, get up! You’ve been asleep for almost 8 hours and we’re closing in on Vort.”

“Yeah, about that,” Dib said, sitting up with a yawn. “Have you figured out how we’re going to get in, hunt down what we need to know, and get out without you being deactivated and me being turned into a human slave?”

Zim suddenly stiffened, antennae swinging back. He narrowed his eyes. “As if I would let anyone else have you, Dib. I’m offended at the idea of it.”

Dib rested his head on Zim’s shoulder. “Glad we’re at least on the same page, there. So what’s your game plan?”

“Why does it have to be  _ my  _ game plan?”

“Because _I’ve_ never been to Vort and it’s  _ your  _ civilization that’s currently occupying it.”

Dib had been trying to get a proper plan out of Zim since they’d first decided to travel to Vort, and Zim had dodged the question every time. Dib hadn’t even been able to coax out answers as to when Zim had last been there or even pry out seemingly innocuous details such as what he could expect the planet to be like. Despite this whole expedition being Zim’s idea, he clammed up and started acting cagey every time Dib so much as _thought_ about the planet. 

Zim’s shoulders slumped. “Look, I’ve been running through scenarios, and nothing has odds I like very much …”

“We kinda knew this might be a long shot,” Dib said with a dismissive shrug. “What’s the least-lethal option?”

Zim flopped back onto bed. “Alright. You know how Vortians are born with a burning desire to research everything?”

“No ... you’ve never told me anything about them,” Dib said, trying to maintain his patience even though they were already at the eleventh hour for sorting out a plan. All snapping at Zim would do is fluster him into silence, and a very sullen silence, at that.

“Okay, fine. From the top, then. Vortians are the galaxy’s foremost researchers; it’s a big reason why Irk was partnered with them for engineering most of our …  _ their  _ battle tech,” Zim explained, making a conscious effort to separate himself from his estranged homeland. “Vortians have a massive library full of aeons worth of information.”

“And you’re sure it’s still standing even though the Empire has a hold of it?” Dib asked dubiously. 

“I know the Tallest are …” Zim trailed off and made a pained noise. Talking shit about his former leaders was something he was certain he’d never get used to. “They’re _idiots_ , okay? Absolute _morons_. Clearly height and intelligence are inversely proportional …” Zim gave a sideways glance at his beanpole of a human. “Except when it comes to you, Dib. You’re a statistical anomaly.”

“Nice save.”

Zim continued on without acknowledging Dib’s sass. “ _They’re_ idiots, but Irk’s engineers wouldn’t dream of destroying that information. I can basically guarantee that their library is still standing. We just need to get past security, and then I need to figure out how to download the information we’re looking for.”

Dib raised an eyebrow. “That … doesn’t seem like a very complete plan …”

“I’m doing the best with what I’ve got, Dib.” Zim gave him a withering look. “I can’t do much else until I know what level of security we’re looking at. At least I’ve sorted out how we’re going to land without seeming suspect.”

“Lay it on me.”

“I’m going to tell them you’re my prisoner.”

Dib gave him a look that was two parts skeptical, one part horrified. “Uhh … are you  _ sure _ that’s a great idea? Because if you don’t want anyone else touching me, that’s _really_ not a good plan. Besides … isn’t rolling up like that kind of _ ill-advised _ ? Won’t it be  _ suspicious _ ? Hell, won’t someone  _ recognize you _ ??”

“I’ve been gone for years, Dib,” Zim said dismissively. “No one stationed on Vort is going to recognize me. And Irkens bring in prisoners from all sorts of planets all the time. It’s practically a rite of passage.”

A rite of passage that Zim had likely never gotten, Dib suddenly realized. He hoped Zim wasn’t using this opportunity to live out one of his smeethood dreams.

“But we have to sell this so … I’m going to need you to strip.”

Dib gave Zim an openly horrified look but Zim motioned for him to hurry it up. He took a deep breath. “Yeahhhh … that’s not going to happen, Zim.”

“Well, it’s the best shot we have at figuring out what our smeets are going to need!” Zim said, exasperated. He met Dib’s eyes and they briefly engaged in an intense staring match until Dib folded.

“Okay,  _ fine. _ But do I really have to be  _ completely _ naked for this?” 

He watched the corner of Zim’s mouth twitch for a moment.

“This is just how prisoners are expected to be delivered,” Zim said with a wave of his hand as he turned away. “It saves on strip search costs.”

He slid off the bed and meandered over to the closet, where he pulled out a neatly pressed Invader Uniform while Dib looked on dubiously.

“I probably should have thought about this before but … is that still going to fit you?” Dib asked.

“I haven’t gotten  _ that _ round, Dib!” Zim retorted, sounding hurt.

“No, you’re just full of eggs,” Dib said diplomatically. “Which I’m guessing differs from your standard Invader.”

Zim gave an irritated little “hmph!!” and pulled the tunic off its hanger. Dib watched with amusement as Zim struggled into it, managing to get his arms into the sleeves and pop his head out, but failing to pull it over his stomach. Dib let him struggle for a moment before standing up to help out.

“Come here …”

“I can do it myself!” Zim protested, pushing Dib’s hands away.

“Just let me help!”

“I don’t  _ want _ your he—.”

Zim was cut off by Dib pressing their mouths together in a surprisingly sudden and passionate kiss. He stopped struggling and wrapped his arms around Dib, kissing back with equal intensity, even when he felt Dib grasp the hem of his tunic and pull it down.

“I should have known you had ulterior motives,” Zim mumbled against Dib’s lips.

Dib pulled back and grinned. “You got a kiss out of it,  _ and  _ you managed to fit into your old uniform, though.”

“Speaking of … you should get out of yours.”

Dib made a dissatisfied noise but didn’t argue further. He was much too nervous about the part of the plan they  _ didn’t _ have ironed out yet to worry about the part of the plan they  _ did _ have. He stripped down, tossing his clothes in a heap, then followed Zim to the cockpit. 

As he made his way towards the front of the ship, he finally caught his first glimpse of Vort. The planet was already close enough for Dib to make out the details. Or would have been, if any of the terrain had been visible. As it was, the planet almost looked like a gas giant, swaddled in thick purple clouds.

“Is there really solid ground under all that?” Dib asked, awestruck regardless. 

“Yeah …” Zim said softly. He turned towards Dib, looking somber. “It didn’t always look like that, you know. That sky is part of what the Empire does to conquered planets. It’s a kind of ‘scorched earth policy’ thing that leaves a planet suitable for manufacturing and engineering and that’s about it,” Zim said, melancholy fluttering in his words. “I remember when it looked a lot different. Vort fell to the Empire shortly after I got to Earth.”

“So you were on Vort when it still belonged to the Vortians?”

“Hm?” Zim glanced sideways. “Oh. Um. Yeah … Irk and Vort were allies for a really long time. Since before I was a smeet, even.”

“What were you there for?” Dib prodded as he watched the planet quickly dominate his entire field of view. They were hurtling towards it at speeds he could barely even comprehend.

“You’re full of questions today,” Zim said suspiciously.

Dib shrugged. “It occurred to me that there’s a lot I never asked you about …”

Zim chewed his lip nervously before finally deciding to answer the question. “I was sent there as a smeet. I was supposed to complete the general education phase of my development before being placed anywhere, but I was so bored — and so destructive  _ because _ I was bored — that they decided to place me somewhere early. They thought engineering might be a good use of my tendency towards destruction.” Zim looked over the readings scrolling down the side of the windshield, furrowed his brow, then started tapping away on the dash.

“So what happened to that plan?” Dib asked. “Since you became an Invader instead, I’m guessing they moved you, or … Zim?” He suddenly realized Zim wasn’t paying attention. “What’s going on?”

Zim was still tapping away. “These readings almost look like someone is trying to … oh, what’s that Earthenoid-specific term? When you take a dead planet and make it habitable?”

“Terraform?” Dib offered. 

Zim snapped his fingers. “That one! Yeah. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it looked like someone was trying to terraform Vort. But that’s … a distinctly non-Irken thing to do. So that can’t be right.”

They abruptly hit the cloud cover and the ship shook violently. Dib quickly sat in the adjacent seat before his legs were knocked out from under him. The visibility dropped to zero as amethyst haze swirled around their ship, making it hard to tell how fast they were traveling.

“It’s almost beautiful, isn’t it?” Zim asked as he glanced over and caught Dib’s transfixed gaze. Dib nodded silently, at a loss for words.

As quickly as it had enveloped them, the cloud cover suddenly gave way, and Dib caught his first glimpse of the planet’s surface. Much of it was blood red, dotted with areas of pink and purple. A concerned noise from Zim made Dib tear his gaze away.

“That’s … plant life,” he said, antennae pressed against the back of his head. “That shouldn’t be there … I mean, it’s endemic to Vort. It  _ should  _ be there naturally, but not after the Empire took them over …”

“Maybe they decided to give more of a shit about the decor?” Dib offered up lamely.

“It’s not just that,” Zim said as he tapped away at the console. “ _ None _ of these readings make any sense! The maps I have of Vort aren’t aligning with the scans I’m getting back.”

Uneasiness crawled up Dib’s spine and he suddenly felt vulnerable. “I don’t like this … maybe we should turn back. Or try a different planet—”

He was cut off by the ship’s warning sirens going off as the entire vehicle decelerated so abruptly that it pitched him forwards violently into the dashboard.

“What the fuck is going on??” Zim shouted in a panic, having only just caught himself in time to avoid concussing himself on the controls.

“It appears that we’re caught in tractor beams,” the Computer answered calmly.

“Can we get  _ un-caught?? _ ” Zim demanded while attempting to do so himself.

“Calculating … Evasive action not recommended. Required power would be detrimental to core systems.”

“Shit … Fuck!” Zim slammed his fist on the console. They were definitely moving backwards and upwards now. “Who the hell is _abducting us??”_

“Uncertain. Call sign not registered in current database.”

"That was a _rhetorical question_ but _thank you_ —"

Everything abruptly fell into shadow as their ship was suddenly swallowed up by a much larger spacefaring vehicle. The hatch below them closed and Dib frantically took in their surroundings. 

There wasn’t much to take in, however. It was exactly the amount of metal and floodlights one would expect to be present if one were to be abducted by aliens. Their ship came to a rest with a metallic _clang_.

“Unknown ship!” buzzed a voice through the ship’s intercom. “Prepare to be boarded.”

“Like fuck I will!” Zim shouted, spinning back towards the controls.

A ping from the Computer gave him pause. 

“Access granted,” the Computer said happily. 

“What??” Zim screeched. “You fucking traitor!! You listen to  _ Zim!!  _ Not some second-rate anonymous—”

“Zim?”

Dib sprung to his feet, more out of a desire to sprint as far away as possible than to do anything useful. Standing between him and the door was what he could only describe as a purple inter-dimensional satyr wearing a black tracksuit. Their abductor looked him up and down before turning to Zim and asking, “Why is he naked?”

“None of your business!” Zim shouted, abruptly appearing in front of Dib, ready to protect his modesty. “Go put some fucking clothes on!” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

Dib, as useful as ever in a stressful situation, stared back stupidly. “But … you’re the one who told me to—”

Zim suddenly whipped his head back and practically seared Dib with the intensity of his glare. Dib shrank back and scurried into the bedroom, shutting the door quickly. Zim turned his attention back to the Vortian in front of him.

“What are  _ you  _ doing here??” Zim demanded.

Prisoner 777 reacted with faux shock. “Oh, so it  _ is you,  _ Zim! It was hard to tell through all the … extra padding.”

Zim didn’t like the smarmy look the Vortian was giving him. “Are they sending prisoners out as a concierge, now?” Zim snapped. He was rapidly losing his grasp on what the hell was going on, and it was making him irate. 

“No,” the Vortian replied snidely. 

Zim was seconds from absolutely losing it. “Then what the  _ absolute fuck  _ is going on here?? There are _plants_ out there and my _maps_ are outdated and the prison has a … a day-release program now??” he fumed. 

“... How long have you been out of contact with Irk?” 777 cocked his head and peered at Zim, who was caught completely off-guard. 

“What makes you say I’m out of contact with them?” Zim asked defensively.

“I don’t know … maybe that uniform you clearly haven’t worn in ages, or the fact that you missed the Vortian uprising …”

Zim's eyes widened in shock, but the alien across from him was too busy looking over the cramped space to notice.

“You know, scans said there were _two_ Irkens onboard … where’s the other?”

Dib suddenly opened the door and Zim waved a dismissive hand in his direction. “That one is an Irken-human hybrid …”

Dib, who was now fully clothed, skirted around the room while keeping his eyes on the Vortian. He edged his way behind Zim and stood there awkwardly.

“Huh. Well. That answers that … kind of. I guess. Are you going to introduce us?” Prisoner 777 asked Zim with a smirk.

Zim glowered. “Dib, Prisoner 777. Prisoner 777, Dib,” he grumbled, jabbing his thumb at each of them in turn.

The Vortian rolled his eyes. “You never even bothered to learn my  _ name _ ? Typical Irken. So rude.” He looked over Zim’s shoulder and smiled genuinely at Dib. “I’m S’kai Larr.”

Zim shoved Dib further backwards, away from the other alien. That level of friendliness without familiarity may as well be flirting, and Zim _certainly_ wasn't about to stand for that. “Don’t talk to my human like that.”

“Like  _ wha— _ ? Wait.  _ Your  _ human??” S’kai Larr’s eyes went wide as he dropped his gaze and looked from Zim’s stomach to Dib. Zim could almost hear the rusted gears turning. “You didn’t,” S’kai Larr said, too gobsmacked to sound flabbergasted. 

“Didn’t  _ what?”  _ Zim challenged, bristling. 

Dib put a hand on Zim’s shoulder. He was concerned that, pregnant or not, Zim was going to try and instigate a fist fight.

S’kai Larr looked like the entire situation was giving him a headache. “How did you even  _ manage _ that?? Aren’t Irkens supposed to be sterile??”

“Ugh!” Zim threw his hands in the air. “I’d love to tell you  _ all about this whole situation  _ but, unfortunately,  all the answers are in  _ your _ library! I came here thinking that I’d have to sweet-talk some Irkens to get my hands on it, but talking to you is  _ so much worse!! _ ”

S’kai Larr made a dramatic show of rolling his eyes and turning towards the door. “Well, come with me and you can talk to someone else. Lard Nar will be relieved to hear that the Irken threat is just  _ you  _ and that genetically modified pink squidgy thing.”

Zim stopped mid-step, hardly even reacting when Dib slammed into the back of him. “ _ Lard Nar?? _ ” he chirped, eyes wide. “Uh … You know what? There’s actually  _ another _ library I just thought of, so if it’s all the same to you, we’ll just get going—”

“What are you so afraid of, Zim?” S’kai Larr asked with the grin of someone who knew  _ exactly  _ what Zim was afraid of. “You’ll be  _ fine _ . Do you have any idea how famous you are around here?”

Zim felt his insides suddenly chill. “Famous on Vort? For  _ what _ ?” he demanded. 

“For being the single greatest force opposing the Irken empire!” the Vortian said gleefully while Zim stared at him in horror. “You’ve killed more Irkens than  _ anyone _ ! You stopped Operation Impending Doom I and you killed two Tallest when you were only a  _ smeet _ !” He held his hands up jovially, eyes sparkling. “Zim …  _ buddy _ .”

Zim shrunk back as the taller alien laid a clawed hand on his shoulder and gave him a genuine grin full of disconcertingly pointed teeth.

“I know it might shock you to hear this, but … You’re kind of a big deal around here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Dib misheard Prisoner 777's name as "Skylar" throughout this entire exchange.


	7. Informed Consent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim reunites with his old mentor and Dib finally learns all the parts of Zim's past that were kept from him.  
> *********************************************  
> Check me out on [Tumblr](https://starlitvesper.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter (18+ ONLY)](https://twitter.com/starlitvesper) for snippets, updates, my art, ugly selfies and posts about my cats!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning for: Suicide attempt, parental emotional abuse  
> \--  
> On a lighter note, I don't think I even need to warn you that there's fucking in this chapter. OH! And plot happens.

_ Leave it to me  
I made a different plan than all of my friends  
I'm on my best behavior  
And pretty soon you'll see what I have done _

\- [Lady Danville, _Anthem_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fqfvKbV1XY0)

* * *

_ I. _

_ [EARTH - Late Summer; One Week Before the Start of University] _

Zim rounded the corner to Dib’s street. The jerk had said he just needed to go home for a few things, and that he’d be back soon. That had been hours ago and Zim was starting to get nervous. It wasn’t as though Dib, human ADHD disaster, never lost track of time before. But he usually at least answered his phone when Zim called him.

He scurried up the side of the house and pushed Dib’s window open. It was a series of actions he’d done hundreds of times at this point and it as much muscle memory as opening a door.

“Dib?” he whispered. He didn’t see his Dib anywhere. He wandered out into the hall, calling his human’s name, until Gaz opened her door and poked her head out.

“He’s in the bathroom, Zim. Chill.”

Zim gave her a worried look. “For the past how long?”

Gaz raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know … a while? He does that, sometimes. I wouldn’t bother him if I were you.”

“You don’t have to explain the human digestive system to me, Gaz,” Zim replied impatiently.

He knocked on the door. “Dib? Just tell me you’re alive and I’ll wait for you back at the base.”

He waited for an answer, but he didn’t even hear movement from behind the door.

“You’re being weird,” Gaz told him, taking him by the shoulder and steering him back down the hall. “Just go wait in his room. Or wherever. Our Dad’s gone for the rest of the day, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Alright … thanks.” Zim walked back into Dib’s room and shut the door, then made his way towards the window. No matter what Gaz said, something just didn’t feel right. He skittered along the outside of the house, mentally mapping out where the bathroom window would be. Worst case, he figured he’d catch Dib in the middle of a private moment and just never speak of it. He’d go wait in Dib’s bedroom, content in the knowledge that his mate was alive. 

He peered around the window and caught the top of Dib’s cowlick. From his position, it looked like Dib was sitting on the floor, back against the cabinets. He was close enough to the door that he absolutely would have heard all the commotion Zim had been kicking up. Confused, Zim poked his head up far enough to see what was going on.

Even with the entire scene in front of him, his brain initially struggled to make sense of the visual input.

Dib was leaned back against the cabinets, eyes closed and head back, as if sending out a silent appeal to the heavens. Bright red gashes spilled rivers of scarlet from his arms onto his clothing and the floor. Angry flowers bloomed on the fabric and rivulets of red mapped out the spaces between tiles until they congealed, only feet from where they began. The counter was littered with pill bottles, a half-full bottle of Everclear, and various jugs of cleaners.

Zim could feel himself screaming, but a loud static haze whined in his antennae, cushioning him from the real world. 

The next fifteen minutes were a blur. Zim knew he had ripped out the window, snatched Dib, and sprinted on his PAK’s dexterous spider legs across the rooftops back to his base. Then everything went deathly calm, his mind a placid, glassy pool as he stuck a tube down Dib’s throat to empty the contents of his stomach, letting the machine take over as he stitched Dib up for the … tenth? Maybe twelfth time? 

He wasn’t sure. 

It didn’t matter. 

Maybe nothing did, anymore. 

He’d knocked Dib out with weapons-grade pain reliever, keeping him mercilessly still and unaware of what was going on. But now that Zim had replaced most of the blood Dib lost and stitched up the leaks, he needed answers. He needed Dib to wake up.

So he turned down the medication to a slow drip, sat in the chair by Dib’s bedside, and waited.

It wasn’t long before Dib stirred, groaning and blinking at the ceiling lights.

_ “Oh good. You’re awake.” _

Zim was shocked at how angry his voice sounded, then at how angry he felt. Dib had almost died!! Why was he _angry_ and not relieved??

“Zim?” Dib whimpered, tugging at the lines in his arm, confused. “What happened?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.”

Dib was still for a moment, his eyes shut tight against the ceiling lights. “Fuck ... um ... I was with you all day,” he recounted, voice raspy and wavering, “then I think I remember coming home to get some things, then running into my dad … fighting with my dad again … and then … shit. Um ... I don’t know.” His lip trembled. “Zim … I don’t know. Everything hurts so bad and I can’t think!” Dib curled in on himself, fingers in his hair, body shaking as silent sobs shook his core.

“Fuck…” Zim swore, before quickly jumping up and turning the drip back on. Dib grabbed him around the middle and stuck his face in his shirt. Zim stroked his hair and held him close. “Shhh … it’s okay. I’m so sorry. I turned that off so you’d wake up but it’s back on now. You’re okay. You’re going to feel better really soon …”

“What happened to me?” Dib asked through his tears. “Why do I feel like I got hit by a truck? Where ... fuck, I'm not in the hospital again, am I??"

"You're at my base ... I promised you I'd never let those people touch you again," Zim reassured him.

Zim held Dib close until he finally got ahold of himself and the chemicals running through his bloodstream finally brought relief to the pain burning through every part of his body.

“I found you passed out at your house, with your arms cut up and a million bottle of things on the counter,” Zim said quietly. “I rushed you back here. Emptied your stomach out … sewed your arms up. And that’s it. That’s all I know.” Zim’s breath caught in his throat. He brushed Dib’s wild hair from his face. “Why didn’t you call me, Dib? I told you after the last time to just call me and I’ll fix whatever is going on.”

Not as though Zim could fix _everything_ but damn if he wasn't going to try.

Dib turned away and wiped his eyes, looking at the ceiling. “It seems stupid now …” he said hoarsely.

“It always does afterwards, Dib,” Zim sighed. “Turns out that there isn’t a whole lot worth killing yourself over.”

He sat down and leaned onto the bed, head in his hands. He’d always been prepared for the day when Dib would end up having a brush with death, but he wasn’t expecting it to be quite so soon or quite so traumatic. 

“My dad kicked me out,” Dib finally managed to blurt out as his breath stuttered in his throat.

Zim reached for Dib’s hands. “Fuck him. That’s why you’re coming to live with me. We don’t need him, Dib.”

But Dib wasn’t listening, his eyes unfocused as he stared at their hands. “It’s because I’m a failure … he doesn’t love me. He doesn’t care about me. I’m a disappointment. A fuckup.”

“You’re none of those things and if he doesn’t love you or care about you, he sucks and he’s wrong. Just … Fuck …” He was so frustrated he wanted to lock himself in the closet and scream. “Dib, you are not allowed to die on me. I … I love you.”

Dib looked over and met Zim’s worried gaze.

“You’re not … mad at me?” he whispered.

“No, I’m not mad _at you_ ,” Zim insisted. “I’m just upset that I almost lost you.”

“But … I fucked up. Really badly …”

“Why are you trying to make a case for me being upset with you?” Zim asked, perplexed. “I don’t want to be upset with you. I just want to be grateful that you’re still here and you’re still my Dib and you’ll still be coming to live with me, where I can actually protect you from everything. Including yourself.” He pressed his palm against his forehead. “Fuck …. mostly from yourself.”

For reasons Zim couldn’t quite ascertain, this evoked yet another round of sobbing from his human. He climbed up next to Dib in bed and held him while he cried his eyes out, stroking his hair and murmuring softly.

“Do you still hurt?” Zim asked, running a hand down Dib’s bandages. 

“Just my heart …” Dib said, anguish still palpable.

“I think I’m supposed to administer cuddles for that, or something,” Zim trailer off as Dib held him close. Zim nuzzled against his cheek and rubbed his back. “Eventually, I’m going to need to go clean up your house … and maybe put the window I ripped out back in the wall,” Zim said as he tucked a wisp of hair behind Dib’s ear.

“Please don’t leave,” Dib begged, clutching Zim’s shirt despite the fact that Zim hadn’t even moved yet.

“Dib … everything was a wreck when we left. I _literally_ ripped out the window. There’s blood all over the floor. You left pill bottles and jugs of cleaner all over the counter …” He wiped away a tear as it rolled down Dib’s cheek. “Someone is going to notice, and then they’ll probably call the police. I don’t want you getting sent away.”

Dib pressed his face against Zim’s chest. “Can I at least get something to drink, and maybe a snack? My throat hurts and my stomach is so empty …”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you drink cleaning fluids, dummy,” Zim said, leaning down to kiss Dib’s head and lingering there to mumble, “Don’t ever scare your Zim like that again.”

“I’m sorry …” Dib whispered back, barely audible.

“I’ll be back with something that'll be gentle on your stomach. Just sit tight and don’t fiddle with anything,” Zim said, extricating himself and kissing Dib’s hand before heading out of the room.

Dib took the spare time to finally look around. There were a couple biohazard bins stowed near the door; Dib didn’t want to think about the contents of those. Hanging above his head was an IV stand with an empty bag of blood, and then what he assumed was a saline drip with morphine. He wasn’t quite sure where Zim had obtained the blood, and he honestly was too nervous to ask. His arms were bandaged pretty extensively, which was no surprise.

He shifted on this pillow and winced as something on his neck snagged. He gingerly reached back and was shocked to find a row of stitches at the base of his skull. Had he hit his head? It seemed an odd place to end up with a head wound.

Zim trotted back in with a couple bottles of coconut water and crackers, but stopped cold when he saw the look Dib was giving him.

“Why are there stitches in my neck?” Dib demanded, voice low and intense. 

Zim sat the food down on the chair and stood by Dib’s bedside.

“I need you to calm down and not freak out,” Zim said, his tone even.

“What did you do to me?” Dib asked, panic bubbling up, flooding his brain, washing away all rational thought.

“Breathe, Dib. Please …”

“Tell me what you did to me!!” Dib yelled, anguished.

“It … I put a chip in your head, okay?” Zim admitted.

Dib stared at him blankly, mouth hanging slightly open.

“It just modulates your depressive episodes. Mostly because I couldn’t … I can’t fix the damage your childhood caused.” Zim looked away, antennae against the back of his head.

They’d been over this before, when Zim had tried to track down the source of Dib’s depression. Dib has seen the brain scans; watched as parts of his brain simply didn’t light up the way they were supposed to. Pathways that had failed to form.

Broken.

Defective.

“I can’t make you stop being depressed entirely," Zim whispered. "I can’t … I can’t make the love centers of your brain work like they should. But I can stop the extremes and prevent this from happening again. I’m sorry for putting it there without asking. I just can’t lose you, Dib. I would have to follow you right out of existence. I love you too much to live without you.”

He wiped away his tears, frustrated, as Dib sat still, staring at the floor. 

“It, um … also translates spoken alien languages,” Zim said softly, hoping he wasn’t being completely tone deaf. “It tethers to the PAK’s universal translator. Kinda like the TARDIS does for people in that _Doctor Whatever_ show you like so much. It'll make it easier when we eventually get to travel outside of this solar system ...”

When Dib still didn’t reply, Zim set the food next to him, avoiding eye contact.

“I’m sorry … I meant to ask. You were just … I was panicking. I’d been stitching you up and pumping your stomach as fast as I could and it still looked like I was going to lose you. And I can’t lose you, Dib. I can’t go through this ever again. You’re too special to me and I can’t … I wouldn’t …”

He didn’t feel like crying in front of Dib. As he turned to leave, Dib grabbed his wrist and he was pulled abruptly into his arms.

“It's okay. Probably all for the best, really,” Dib whispered hoarsely, hugging him tight. “Sorry I flipped out on you.”

“I’m sorry I waited to tell you. It was …a little difficult to know what to lead with,” Zim mumbled. 

“It’s fine. Like I said ... all for the best, considering my track record.”

Zim stroked his hair. “It’s not like I’m preventing you from feeling things entirely. It just mellows out the emotional spikes that lead to trying to kill yourself a million ways at once.”

Dib didn’t let go, so Zim continued petting him comfortingly, until a stray thought finally caught his attention.

“Oh! I almost forgot … I, um, made you something,” Zim said, leaning down to pick something up off the chair. 

“You mean besides an implantable brain computer?” Dib asked with a smirk. His expression shot directly to surprise, however, once he saw what Zim was holding up. “Did you … make me a plushie of yourself?” he asked, one eyebrow disappearing underneath his hair.

“Is that too much? Fuck, I was worried it would be too much …” Zim said with a frown. 

Dib grabbed for it. “No no!! I love it!!” he insisted, hugging it close. “I’m just wondering where the idea came from.” He held the plushie close like he was worried Zim might reneg and take it from him.

“I was going to give it to you for when we’re apart, but since you’re moving in early and I have to go clean up the tile before the blood sets, I thought maybe it could keep you company now,” Zim said with a blush.

"You've been doing so much for me ..." Dib stroked plushie-Zim’s antennae nervously. “I feel like I should tell you … I feel really bad for how pushy I was a few weeks ago. Just … you’re taking really good care of me, and I’m … not even sure you consented to everything I did to you. And I feel really shitty about it.”

“I put a computer in your head without asking, Dib. We’re even.” Zim kissed his forehead. “Be good, okay? Don’t mess with the IVs and please eat slowly. Your stomach has been through a lot.”

“I’ll sip and nibble, don’t worry,” Dib promised. “And I don’t know the first thing about IVs so I’ll keep my hands off.”

“That’s my Dib,” Zim said with a smile. “Call me if anything comes up!” he added before leaving the room.

He tried very hard not to imagine Dib attempting to overdose himself on painkillers as he made his way out of the base and towards Dib’s house. His human had taken things better than he’d expected, at least. And once Zim had put the bathroom back in order, they would be able to snuggle up together, and Zim would never have to leave Dib alone ever again. That was a very comforting thought. There was little trouble Dib could end up in with Zim by his side.

When he finally arrived back at Dib’s house, he was relieved to find that the window had somehow avoided shattering on impact with the ground. He climbed his way up the wall, figuring he’d start in on cleaning everything up, then put the window back as he left. He crawled through the hole, bracing himself for the scene awaiting him. 

When he dropped to the floor and finally took in the sight in front of him, everything was exactly as awful as he’d expected. Blood coated the tile. There were various pills strewn about. Chemicals splashed on the floor. At least Dib had left him some bleach to clean up with.

His poor Dib … Zim figured he must have been genuinely distraught to have attempted to put half these things into his body, never mind in combination. He wondered if Gaz had figured out what had happened by now, and further, whether or not she was worried. Dib attempting to off himself was unfortunately something that had, at this point, happened nearly a dozen times. And that was just in the span of time in which they had been dating. Dib usually called up Zim, in tears, begging for help when he eventually got frightened and realized he didn’t want to die. Zim had stitched him up countless times and pumped his stomach more than once. It was gruesome work, but so much better than sending Dib off to the hospital. Zim couldn’t protect him there, and he’d already seen how awful that place was for his Dib. If he wanted healing, he would have to to provide that for Dib himself.

As soon as Zim had things looking passable, he threw all the empty pill bottles in the trash, tied off the bag so he could toss it in the garage, and decided to ask Gaz where the hell the alcohol had come from. He stepped out into the hallway and knocked on her door. 

When she opened it, her face fell.

“Where’s Dib?” she asked softly, her expression suggesting she feared the worst.

“Recovering from his latest attempt on his life,” Zim said wryly. “He’s fine. I’m … kind of not, honestly. But he’s awake and lucid and … fine.” His shoulders slumped. “I just need to know where to put the alcohol.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s the cleaning alcohol,” Gaz said upon reading the bottle. “The only thing that stuff is good for is cleaning counters and sterilizing wounds.” Gaz paused, looking like she was dying to ask something, but dreading the answer. “What was it about this time?”

“He said your dad kicked him out.”

Gaz suddenly looked skeptical. “What? No … that can’t be right. He had to’ve … there had to have been a misunderstanding.”

“Fuck of a misunderstanding, then. He tried to wash all the pills in the medicine cabinet down with all the available cleaners.” 

Zim met her eyes, but Gaz quickly looked away, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Dad wouldn’t do that … he —” 

She was cut off by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Zim was about to launch into lecturing Dib about staying put when Zim told him to, but it wasn’t Dib who came up the steps. 

Professor Membrane stopped cold the moment he saw Zim and stared at him for a moment, attempting to make sense of the sight in front of him. Zim was still holding a trash bag full of biohazards and a half liter of Everclear. 

“Where’s my son, Zim?” Membrane asked, sounding tired.

“At my house … because that's the only place he could go, after you kicked him out,” Zim said quietly, radiating defensive energy. This was the man Zim wanted to be alone with least in the entire world, and Gaz was standing perfectly still in her doorway, being absolutely no help at all. It looked like Zim was on his own this time.

“Would you tell him to come home, please? He’s not picking up his phone.”

Zim stared at Membrane like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears. Were there some cultural implications of being kicked out of one's home that Zim had failed to pick up on? In what world could Dib be expected to take a phone call from the man who had spontaneously evicted him?

“Why should he?” Zim blurted. 

Membrane blinked at him from behind his thick work goggles. “Excuse me?”

“He tried to kill himself over the fight you had, you know. Why should he pick up the phone for you? Why should he come home?” Zim felt himself growing angrier and bolder with every word.

“Kill himself? Again?" Membrane sounded less concerned and more irritated. "What hospital did he end up at this time?”

“He didn’t. Unlike you, I would never leave Dib alone with those maniacs,” Zim replied, bristling.

“I would highly advise you not to take that tone with me in my own house,” Membrane said icily.

Zim scowled. “You know what?” He dropped the garbage bag and glass bottle on the floor without breaking eye contact, took a few steps backwards, then turned on his heel back towards the bathroom. “Screw this. Screw you. And fix your own fucking window!” he shouted angrily before vaulting straight out the hole in the wall.

The last thing he heard was a distant, “What in the—” before he dropped to the ground, bending his knees and rolling. He’d landed a bit hard on his ankle, but it was nothing he couldn’t shake off on his sprint back home.

After all, his Dib was waiting for him.

* * *

_ II. _

_ [Back on VORT] _

“Any Time you want to fill me in—”

“Not now, Dib,” Zim hissed under his breath. He understood how Dib must be feeling right now … he really, truly did … but now was  _ not _ the time to discuss why he had chosen to keep certain things under wraps. Not that Zim felt like his rationale for leaving out things like “I killed two of my planet’s leaders” and “I used to have a Vortian prisoner I commissioned things from” needed much explanation. Dib was smart. He could suss that out for himself.

In contrast to Dib’s sour expression, their Vortian escort seemed positively giddy as he led them through an increasingly confusing network of corridors.

“When we heard that a Defective was going to be deactivated,” S’kai Larr said, either not hearing Dib or pretending he wasn’t talking, “Lard Nar had all of the Resisty working around the clock to hack into the feed and figure out who was going to be on trial. And when they found out it was  _ you _ ?  _ The  _ Invader Zim? The Irken with the highest kill count in the galaxy?"

Dib shot Zim a severe look.

"I guess news of my Invader days got around, huh?" Zim said self-consciously.

"Not even just that, Zim … you’ve killed more Irkens than any single militia in the galaxy.” S'kai Larr shook his head, star struck. “Oh yeah. When we heard it was you, we knew some prime shit was about to go down. But taking out the Control Brains for a full half hour? I don’t think anyone could have predicted that.”

“You’d almost think I was  _ lucky  _ to be the single most insane _Defective_ ever to be activated,” Zim muttered sarcastically under his breath. He really wished their guide would stop throwing _that word_ around.

“A lot of people thought you were dead after that, you know!” S’kai Lar prattled on. “We heard that you’d somehow managed to avoid being deactivated, but then we stopped picking up any outgoing communications from you at all. You just dropped off the radar completely. I guess I know why …”

“You  _ really don’t _ ,” Zim said defensively.

“Oh?” S’kai Larr looked back and forth between him and Dib.

Zim sighed. “I mean … that’s part of it. Not all of it, but … it is a large part of it.” He took Dib’s hand and held it tightly, feeling slightly more at ease when Dib squeezed his hand back. 

They had taken so many turns through winding corridors that Zim wasn’t certain he’d be able to backtrack if things went south. All he could do was hope that Lard Nar was feeling generous today and he wouldn’t have to make a break for it.

They stopped outside a door and before S’kai Larr could open it, Zim stopped him. 

“This has been a warm welcome and all, but I need you to know that if something is about to go down … If Lard Nar is angry at me for … ” he trailed off as he glanced nervously at Dib. “Dib’s got nothing to do with it. We didn’t know each other then; he wasn’t even alive when it happened.”

S’kai Larr stared at him blankly, as if waiting for Zim to break character and declare he was merely joking. When that didn’t happen, the Vortian raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Wow … you  _ really _ think I’m trying to pull one over on you, don’t you?”

“You would have every reason to,” Zim said, small and soft. “You, Lard Nar …  _ all of Vort _ , to be perfectly honest.”

S’kai Larr sighed and pressed his hands together. “Zim? Let me level with you here for a second, okay? You’re an Irken by genetics and that’s about it, as far as we’re concerned,” he said simply.

“But I didn’t even  _ mean  _ to  take down the Control Brains!”

“Don’t care, Zim. And I mean that in the best possible way, really," S'kai Larr insisted. "I don’t give a shit what you  _ meant _ to do and neither does anyone else. You’re practically a folk hero. Take my advice and just  _ enjoy it _ .” He held his hand up to the reader next to the door, which slid open.

Three of the walls of the room were covered with monitors that appeared to be part of a surveillance system. In the center of the room was a long table, and the far wall was a glass window that looked out over the planet. Staring out the window was a taller Vortian in goggles and what Zim immediately recognized as the traditional robes of a Vortian scientist. When the figure turned to face the door, Zim visibly shrank back.

“It really is you,” Lard Nar said, a note of awe in his voice as he made his way over in a few long strides. He looked Zim up and down. “You’ve certainly … Uh … ” He trailed off as the edge of his mouth twitched.

After Zim’s show of concern in the hallways, Dib was shocked to feel the Irken immediately bristle. 

“Oh,  _ say it _ . I  _ dare you _ . Fucking say that I’ve 'grown' since the last time you saw me. You’ll have to excuse me because I haven’t worn this  _ stupid _ uniform in ages and I didn’t exactly have time to change in between being  _ abducted _ and finding out this planet is now a  _ free republic! _ ” Zim said in one defensive breath, throwing all caution to the wind.

A grin broke out over Lard Nar’s face and he stifled a laugh. “There's the Zim I remember! You haven’t changed a bit!”

Zim just glared. “Do you want the explanation for all this—” he gestured at himself, “— or do you just want to take an educated guess?”

“Oh, I heard everything,” Lard Nar said with a dismissive wave at the security monitors. “Though, to say I’m curious about the mechanics would be an understatement.”

Zim stood in sullen silence, looking anywhere but at the Vortian standing in front of him. 

“Later, later, of course. For now, sit down,” Lard Nar finally said. “I’m sure you want to know what’s going on here and I’d love to know how and why a pregnant Irken ended up on my planet.” He gave Dib, who was still uncharacteristically silent, a sideways look.

Zim hugged him close. “This is my mate, Dib, and he will be going everywhere that I go,” Zim stated. It wasn’t up for debate. The last thing he wanted was for his poor, squishy human to end up getting lost on an extrasolar planet. 

Lard Nar shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said, motioning them to sit down as S’kai Larr turned and left the room.

Zim sat down in a too-large chair across from Lard Nar, still clutching Dib’s clammy hand in his own and sitting close enough to his mate that he could have put his head on Dib’s shoulder if he wanted to. That seemed like a show of a bit more vulnerability than he wanted right now, though.

“So,” Lard Nar said, giving Zim an impenetrable look, “where do you want to start?”

Where  _ did  _ he want to start? So much had happened in the year between when he had last seen Lard Nar, up until now. However, the Vortian answered his own question before Zim could so much as draw in a breath. 

“Maybe … oh, I don’t know … with an apology?”

Zim scoffed, looking taken aback. He was expecting an awkward conversation about his obvious pregnancy, not confrontation right out of the gate. 

“From me or from you?” he said acidly.

Lard Nar raised his brows. “Oh? What would  _ I  _ have to apologize to you over, Zim? Because the way I see it, killing Miyuki and Spork and then letting  _ me _ take the fall for it  _ probably _ warrants an apology.”

The temperature at the table abruptly dropped fifteen degrees and the room was suddenly so quiet that Dib could hear S’kai Larr singing what sounded like shockingly on-key show tunes to himself in the hallway. 

“ _ I  _ didn’t kill Tallest Miyuki  _ or  _ Tallest Spork,” Zim said through gritted teeth. 

Dib winced as Zim suddenly squeezed his hand in an angry death grip.

“And you’re saying I  _ did _ ?” Lard Nar asked, a touch calmer than Zim.

“I’m  _ saying _ there was an  _ awful lot of evidence _ that you planned to set that thing on Tallest Miyuki sooner or later.”

Lard Nar smirked, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “If we’d  _ gotten that far _ , that might have been relevant.”

“How is it not relevant  _ now _ ??” Zim demanded, antennae standing almost straight above his head, quivering with anger. 

“Because  _ you _ let it loose before I could even  _ think _ about planning an assassination,” Lard Nar replied, his quiet intensity starting to crack as he leaned forward threateningly.

“I did  _ not _ ! And  _ you _ willfully put  _ me _ at risk!”

Dib, watching the back-and-forth with both confusion and horror, couldn’t help but notice that Zim was sounding less and less like his usual obstinate self and more like a child whose parent had let him down.

Lard Nar had crossed his arms and sat back from the table. “Pfft … ‘risk’. What  _ risk _ , Zim? Any danger you got yourself in was your own fault.”

Zim stood up and slammed his palms on the table. “You were my  _ mentor _ !! I was  _ just a smeet _ and you  _ knew _ it!!” Zim shouted as all of his emotions suddenly bubbled up and threatened to drown him. “Don’t pretend like  _ any _ of this is news to you! You  _ knew  _ I was too young to be there and you  _ knew  _ Tallest Miyuki sent me to you because I destroyed everything in a 100 kilometer radius!” Zim screeched. He felt Dib flinch beside him but he was too worked up to care. “I could have been  _ killed _ just because  _ you _ decided it would be a great idea to let a  _ smeet _ handle a  _ volatile organism! _ ”

Lard Nar rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. You were  _ fine _ . They let you be an Invader, even after all that.”

“I was tried for  _ war crimes!! _ ” Zim howled. “While you just took off!”

“As a fugitive of the law!” Lard Nar countered. “And you made it out of your Existence Evaluation no worse for the wear. I don’t know what you’re upset at  _ me _ for.”

“Because you  _ knew I was broken _ ,” Zim hissed, trying to steady his trembling lip. Not that it mattered; his antennae were pressed flat behind his head and I couldn’t have sounded more betrayed if he tried. He sat back down heavily. “You knew it … and you  _ exploited it _ .”

Zim couldn’t decide if he wanted to tear the room apart or cry, so he settled for looking moodily past Lard Nar and watching purple clouds billow past the window.

Lard Nar’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean I  _ exploited it? _ ”

“I was just there to take the fall if something went wrong,” Zim said softly, radiating hurt. His shoulders slumped and he hung his head. “That’s the only possible use for a _Defective_ , right? Let them take the blame because they’re just going to get deactivated sooner or later …”

Across from him, Lard Nar sighed and leaned his elbows on the table. “Zim … When we heard you were being transferred to our lab, the other Vortian scientists wanted to have you deactivated on the spot for being too much of a liability. I had to go to Miyuki and request that you be placed under me, personally.”

“What? Why would you do that?” Zim asked, perplexed and a touch suspicious.

“I knew you were …  _ different _ , Zim. I guess I thought that maybe …" Lard Nar looked away and ran his fingers through his fur up to his horns. "That maybe you weren’t like them.”

“Like other Irkens?” Zim tilted his head. “Well ... You’re not  _ wrong  _ …”

Lard Nar smiled, genuinely this time. “No, I suppose I wasn’t. At the time, I thought maybe I could take you under my wing, make a rebel out of you. The same things Miyuki saw in you could be gently steered in another direction …” He looked wistfully out the window. “I wanted you as my protege. I didn’t expect things to go sideways so quickly.”

Zim looked down, feeling conflicted. He was used to having people act disappointed in him, but this somehow cut worse than any other past rejection.

“I just wanted someone to be proud of me,” Zim whispered. “Every time something went horribly wrong … it was just because I wanted someone to acknowledge me.” He looked up, finally meeting Lard Nar’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to set it loose. And I never meant for you to take the fall. I was … I was just a scared, confused smeet.” Zim bit his lip, compelled to apologize but fighting with a deep-seated instinct to stick to his guns. He met Lard Nar's eyes and compassion won out. “I’m … I’m sorry. You could have been out from under the thumb of the Empire so much sooner without me,” he said, barely audible. “I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry you had to leave your home.”

Lard Nar watched Zim’s body language carefully. The way his antennae hung low, his head bowed as he uttered a distinctly un-Irken apology. The way he leaned into his mate for support. Everything about him bled a kind of vulnerability thought to have been long bred out of the Irken race, with all remaining vestiges erased by their PAK brains.

“I guess I wasn’t wrong, all those years ago,” Lard Nar said quietly.

Zim looked up, antennae suddenly perked.

“You’re not like them, Zim.” Lard Nar smiled. “I know the fact that you've even got a mate should have tipped me off but … I just had to be sure.”

Zim sat back, almost imperceptibly, and narrowed his eyes. “You’re not upset with me?” he asked slowly.

Across the table, Lard Nar finally relaxed. “I'm not saying I hadn't harbored any resentment," he said with a sigh. "But at this point, I would say everything worked out. Vort has already made great strides. And you, with everything you’ve been through … you’ve made a life for yourself, but you’ve also given people something to rally around.”

“How much of what people think is even true, though?” Zim asked quietly.

“That’s the thing … it doesn’t matter. People believe what they need to in order to keep fighting. And even if they’ve made you into something larger than life … an Irken like you is rare.”

Zim looked away. “Defectives happen … I’ve heard of others who left Irken society and have mates and families. I’m not the first.”

“Sure,” Lard Nar conceded, “But you have a level of tenacity that others don’t. You also went through an Existence Evaluation, _survived,_ and took down the entire Irken network. You’re something special, Zim.”

Zim sat silently, staring at the table. He hadn’t stopped to consider how he might be viewed outside of Irken society. His own culture viewed him as weak and broken at best, and insane at worst for being ruled by his emotions. He'd always assumed that made him broken by default.

“You know why I disappeared, now. I want to know what happened to you.”

Lard Nar’s request startled Zim out of his thoughts. 

“Huh?”

“After your Existence Evaluation. You dropped off the map.”

Zim looked down at the table. The reason he disappeared after his Evaluation was not his proudest moment. “I couldn’t really ignore that the Tallest wanted me dead, after that,” he mumbled. “I’d been laboring under the delusion that I was doing something important for them. But watching them cheer as the Control Brains gave me their verdict … there’s no cognitive dissonance strong enough to ignore that, and it …” Zim felt tears welling in his eyes. “It broke me. I think I held out until I got back to earth.” He gave a sad laugh. “I only went back there because I didn’t know where the hell else to go. And as soon as I was back …” He looked at Dib. He didn’t particularly want to delve into their complicated history. Or the complicated feelings he had dealt with once he returned back to earth.

He had locked himself away in his base for weeks after the Evaluation, oscillating between scheming like normal and episodes of unprecedented clarity. The entire time, Dib kept showing up at his door, trying to goad him into a fight. One night when Dib was outside well past midnight, still yelling taunts from the porch, and Zim had circled back to feeling like nothing mattered, he finally opened the door and Dib had tumbled inside. Zim agreed to tell him anything he wanted to know and Dib had grudgingly agreed not to cut him open.

And somehow, between late-night chats where they fell asleep on opposite ends of the couch, the “information sessions” where Zim helped Dib chart stars and galaxies, and their eventual alliance on school projects and homework …

“I fell in love with this dumbass human shortly after and there wasn’t really a reason to get back in contact with anyone outside of Earth after that,” Zim mumbled, hoping Dib would forgive the pejorative later. “Not that the Tallest wouldn’t love to get their hands on me. We had a … slight run-in a couple years back with the supervisor overseeing my previous banishment. I wouldn’t even be risking our asses this far into Irken-controlled space if it weren’t for the fact that these smeets are likely to be closer to pre-Cybernetic Irkens than anything born out of a test tube, and my knowledge of my people pre-Cybernetic Revolution is … spotty.”

Lard Nar gave him an empathetic look. “Seems like your Evaluation was the nexus for a lot of things … whatever you did to the Control Brains caused a ripple effect through the sector. Anything tied back to Irk’s network went down for just long enough that if you had, say, a bunch of pissed-off scientists being held captive, they would have time to weaponize anything they could get their hands on.”

Zim looked up, wide eyed. “So the Empire is …”

“Oh, no, they’re still out there,” Lard Nar assured him. “Vort’s had our hands full getting back up to speed, technologically, and defending our base of operations.”

Zim nodded. As much as he resented Irk for everything he’d been put through, he wasn’t sure he was prepared yet to wake up and find out that he was the only Irken left.

“How do you feel about a trade?” Lard Nar said suddenly, steepling his fingers diplomatically.

“What kind of trade?” Zim asked skeptically. “I’m in no shape for battle, and I frankly want to be done with anything and everything having to do with Irk as soon as possible. Earth is a pre-contact planet so for the time being … my family will be safe there.”

Lard Nar waved his hands. “I wouldn’t dream of sending you into the thick of things. You’ve done more than enough there already. I’m talking about an information exchange. We give you access to the library, and in return … we get to study you.”

“What??” Zim sputtered, taken aback. He wasn’t sure he liked the way Lard Nar was suddenly looking at him. He pressed a little closer to Dib.

“Our information in Irkens is horrifically out of date. Not to mention, you might be our only chance  _ ever  _ to study an actual pregnant Irken in person!” Lard Nar said, visibly excited at the prospect. “You’ll get sent home with all our data to help ensure the health and safety of your smeets, and we get that much more information to add to the archives. Everyone comes out a winner. There’s no downside to you.”

Zim took a moment to make sure there really  _ wasn’t  _ any downside to him.

“Our medical facilities are state of the art,” Lard Nar coaxed. “You’ll get a million more readings here than you would from anything you’ve got back home."

Zim looked at Dib. "That's most of the reason we're even on Vort in the first place ... We have no idea if they'll require PAKs or not and if they do, I don't want to fuck around with the AI current PAKs are onboarded with."

Lard Nar nodded. "Absolutely. With our existing data on the original first generation PAKs, we can even build a basic life support system here if needed. No AI involved. Just a back-to-basics PAK.”

Zim but his lip. He didn't really want to be his old mentor's science experiment, but when it came to securing the brightest possible future for the smeets, there was little Zim wasn't willing to put on the line.

Lard Nar watched Zim’s internal battle play out on his face. “Do we have a deal?” he coaxed. 

Zim looked up at Dib, who shrugged helpfully.

“Ugh, alright! Fine!” Zim said, caving. “But you’re not allowed to cut me or Dib open, and you have to guarantee my, Dib’s, and the smeet’s safety.”

“Done!” Lard Nar said, smacking to table and startling Dib, who had been feeling rather out of his depth for quite a while now. “Alright. I’m going to have S’kai Larr take you back to your ship. Pack up whatever you need because we can’t let you take your own ship down to the surface.”

“Why not?” Zim asked, suspicious. He never strayed far from his ship on any previous excursion.

“It’s a safety issue. Normally unauthorized ships are shot down on sight. The only reason yours wasn’t is because it didn’t look like it was outfitted for assault.” The Vortian suddenly gave him a serious look. “Considering our readings suggested an Irken onboard, you’re very lucky that there are no weapons on that thing.”

They stood up and made their way back towards the door, which opened before they even reached it. S’kai Larr has no doubt been listening in the whole time. 

“Oh, and Zim?” Lard Nar called after them. 

Zim turned and looked over his shoulder. “Eh?”

“Please change out of that ridiculous uniform. You’re no longer an Invader. You’re just Zim now, alright?”

Zim had never thought the words “you’re no longer an Invader” would ever make him smile, but there was a first time for everything.

“Not to mention, I’d really prefer it if you avoided getting yourself shot on sight.”

Zim didn’t have time to react to that one before the door shut and they once again made their way through the winding guts of the Vortian ship. 

* * *

_ III. _

“That certainly could have gone worse!” Zim said with audible relief. He looked over his shoulder and suddenly realized that Dib hadn’t moved from the entrance of the ship. Come to think of it, he’d barely heard a word out of Dib in the past hour or so.

“When …” Dib mumbled, barely audible. He pressed his face into his hands and tried again. “When were you going to tell me … that you were  _ tried for  _ **_war crimes_ ** _??”  _

He was shouting by the end of it and Zim flinched.

“No need to  _ yell _ , Dib. I’m right here.”

Zim ambled towards the bedroom and Dib was quick on his heels, gesticulating wildly.

“You  _ told me  _ you were tried because your PAK was—”

Zim whipped around and shot him a look. Dib glanced away, attempting to rephrase his confrontation in a way that wouldn’t get him skewered by more than just Zim’s glare. Now seemed like a bad time to bring up that _Zim_ was allowed to say it.

“Because it was … you were … because your neuropsychology is different!”

Zim rolled his eyes and continued through the doorway. “Oh tomato, potato, Dib. Does the difference really matter?”

Dib threw his hands in the air. “Are you  _ kidding me  _ right now??”

“I just don’t see the need to split hairs!” Zim said defensively.

“Between mass manslaughter and ableism???”

“Well  _ sure,  _ when you put it like that, it sounds like I’m the bad guy!”

Dib tossed himself headlong into the bed, stuffed his face into a pillow, and screamed while Zim gave him a judgemental look he couldn’t see.

“Oh, yes, my mistake; clearly you would have handled this information  _ a lot better _ than I gave you credit for.”

“You’re maddening,” Dib snapped, muffled.

Zim gave a long-suffering sigh and sat next to him. “Dib, you were … what, like 5 the first night we started actually talking?”

“Twelve, Zim. Christ. It’s basic math.”

“Whatever. The fact of the matter is that you were a smeet and we’d  _ just _ stopped trying to murder each other. How would you have reacted if I opened with, ‘Just got back from being tried for killing half my home planet! I was technically convicted, but I’m so _completely and totally insane_ that the normal methods of execution don’t work!’? Would _that_ have gone over well??”

Dib turned his head and glowered with one eye while the rest of his face stayed submerged in pillow stuffing. “You’ve had eight years to set the story straight.”

Zim growled in frustration and flopped backwards next to him. A month without a proper fight had left him out of practice. He took Dib’s hand in his own and pressed it to his face. “To  _ what end, _ Dib?” he asked, tone pleading. “What _good_ does having that information do you?”

“It’s not about that! It’s about being honest with me.”

“Okay, fine. You want my tragic backstory?” Zim asked, looking at the ceiling.

“I mean … kind of, yeah," Dib mumbled, looking a bit shocked that his tantrum had actually been productive.

“Super,” Zim said sarcastically. “Where do you want me to start?”

“As close to the beginning as possible?”

“Alright. Fine," Zim said, radiating defeat. "The day I was activated—”

“Maybe that’s  _ a little too close to the beginning— _ ”

“Would you just shut up and listen to me for two seconds?” Zim snapped, agitated. 

Dib huffed and looked away, but was finally quiet.

“Thank you,” Zim said tersely. “As I was saying … The day I was activated, I caused a blackout over half the planet.” Zim looked over to gauge Dib’s reaction, but his expression was unreadable. “You’d think that would be enough for them to get rid of me,” Zim continued, “but Tallest Miyuki saw me as a … a kindred spirit, I guess. So when I later tried to escape to the surface and blew the power for the planet  _ again _ , she had me shipped off to R&D as a scientist, instead of as a research subject. 

“Irk and Vort were allies at the time, and Lard Nar was my mentor. The first project he put me on was to create an infinite energy absorbing creature … which promptly got loose because we never bothered to build proper containment for the damn thing. It got a couple of the other engineers and … it killed Miyuki.”

Dib looked up in time to see Zim put his arm over his face.

“She was the closest thing I had to a parental figure. She believed in me.” He took a shaky breath. “Lard Nar was blamed for the attack and he disappeared before they could apprehend him. Irk’s relationship with Vort rapidly deteriorated, especially once the creature killed Tallest Spork, too. My good will with the higher-ups ran out, as well. I’ve been on thin ice since then. Red and Purple never liked me when we were growing up … probably because I was Miyuki’s favorite, despite being so small. So when they became the Tallest … let’s just say things weren’t great for me from then on.”

“Red and Purple are your age?” Dib asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Why is that a shock? The population skews young because we’re always at war and the taller you are, the more likely you are to be funneled into high-prestige, high-mortality professions.”

“I guess that explains a lot. About Red and Purple, I mean,” Dib added hastily.

“They’re the ones that banished me to Foodcourtia after I … destroyed a chunk of the planet and wiped out an entire class of newly-graduated Invaders.” He looked over at Dib, a pained expression twisting his face. “I’m not proud of it, okay? I don’t like having to deal with it or talk about it. It gives me all sorts of feelings I can’t even name.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “But at the time ... I was so far-flung from reality that I skipped out on my banishment to take part in the next big invasion. Red and Purple decided the best way to get rid of me was to send me out into a part of space everyone thought was barren … except it clearly wasn’t. And … well, you know the rest.”

Dib moved closer and put his head on Zim’s shoulder. “I’m sorry …”

“It’s fine,” Zim said brusquely.

“Is it?” Dib asked softly. 

Zim gave Dib a searching look, eyes shimmering, before turning away. “It’s not,” he whispered.

Dib rolled onto his side and snuggled against him, putting a hand on his cheek. “It’s a lot to expect one person to deal with,” he murmured.

“I’m a little worried,” Zim said softly, “that, on top of my PAK issues, there might be something biologically wrong with me that I could pass to the smeets …”

“If you’re worried about anyone, it should probably be me,” Dib said. “I’ve absolutely got issues … you said as much when you ran the scans before putting that translator chip in my head.”

“The tests I ran suggest that what you deal with is environmental, for the most part,” Zim said softly. The downside to that was how little Zim could do to fix the underlying cause. There were connections that never got made due to Dib’s lackluster childhood and areas of his brain were permanently under-active. Sure, Zim could  _ try _ to manually make those changes, but he didn’t much fancy the idea of using his mate as a guinea pig. At least for now, Dib was stable.

“We can have the Vortians look for any warning signs,” Zim suggested. “I'm sure they'll want to backtrack through the DNA data to see how this was even possible. And maybe —”

“Okay, okay … Can we cool it on the logistics for now?” Dib pleaded. “The last hour has been  _ a lot.  _ I’m getting a blinding headache and unless you want to break out your army-issue pain pills again —”

“That's absolutely not happening,” Zim said adamantly. “You with zero inhibitions isn’t a good thing for either of us.”

Dib set his glasses aside and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I can’t argue with that. But I’m seriously getting the worst stress headache, and my idiot ass forgot to pack — oh! Wait a second …”

Zim watched in confusion as Dib sat up, stuffed his hand into his boot and dug around for a moment before pulling out a small white pill. He looked it over and blew the worst of the dust and lint off it. 

Zim cringed in disgust. “Dib, what the — yechh!!!”

He gagged loudly as Dib popped the pill in his mouth and promptly dry-swallowed it.

“Knew that would come in handy,” Dib said with a self-satisfied look. He suddenly caught sight of Zim, who was staring in horror with his tongue halfway out of his mouth.

“What?” Dib asked defensively. “I didn’t  _ put it there on purpose _ ! It just fell in like a week ago and I couldn’t be bothered to take it out.”

_ You know … like a normal person. _

Dib got up to grab a drink and Zim was starting to feel like his face had gotten stuck in a permanent grimace as his eyes followed Dib out of the room. He watched Dib pick up a couple glasses from the sink, inspect them to find the  _ least _ dirty one, and proceed to fill it with juice from the mini fridge. 

“Oh my Tallest … I mated with  _ that, _ ” Zim mumbled to himself in a sort of horrified awe. 

Horrified … and more than a little turned on. 

Dib walked back in and the moment he sat down, Zim immediately straddled him, grabbing fistfuls of hair and proceeding to aggressively make out with him. Dib froze momentarily, but quickly wrapped his arms around Zim and kissed back.

“Whussiss for?” he mumbled around Zim’s writhing tongue.

“You’re disgusting,” Zim mumbled back, while frantically grinding against him.

“Is that answer or an observation?” Dib asked, putting a hand on Zim’s ass.

“Both,” Zim said, whimpering as he pressed against Dib at just the right angle.

“You’re so weird …”

“You’re so gross.”

Zim pushed Dib backwards onto the bed, pressing his shoulders down and shamelessly humping him. He could feel himself starting to soak through his leggings as he pressed up against the bulge in Dib’s jeans, panting hard above him. He felt Dib’s hands on his ass, pulling him down as Dib bucked his hips up against Zim’s crotch.

“Ah! Dib!”

“Are you gonna get naked or am I just going to have to make you cream yourself like this?”

“I don’t care …”

Dib leaned in close to Zim’s antenna. “I’d kind of love to flip you on your stomach and take you from behind …”

“Why?”

“Because your ass is fantastic and I don’t get to feel it collide with my hips at high velocity often enough.”

“Okay, okay …” Zim rolled off and wriggled out of his clothes quickly before hurrying Dib along.

“Are we going to get interrupted?” Dib asked suddenly as he slipped his pants off. 

“They’ve undoubtedly got cameras all over the place. I’m sure they’ll wait until we finish,” Zim said nonchalantly, laying down on his stomach. 

Dib chose not to think too hard about S’kai Larr and company watching him pound Zim. He slid a pillow under Zim’s hips, propping him up at a better angle and hopefully taking a bit of the weight off his belly, before crouching over him and kissing between his shoulders and up the back of his neck. Underneath him, Zim was getting impatient, trying and failing to discreetly pleasure himself. 

“Or you could just hump the pillow until you come. That works, too,” Dib whispered, trying not to laugh and completely ruin the mood.

“You’re taking too long!” Zim grumbled. “And I can’t do anything about it when you’re behind me.”

Dib slid his hands up Zim’s flanks to his shoulders, then slid the top of his cock between Zim’s legs.

“Fuck, I love it when you're so turned on you're dripping,” Dib panted as he gently shifted, trailing his cock towards Zim’s waiting pussy. He reached down Zim’s arms and intertwined their fingers as he kissed up Zim’s neck before curling around his mate’s body, easily sliding all the way inside and feeling Zim’s ass bounce on contact. Zim moaned and relaxed underneath his weight.

“There’s a good little bug,” Dib praised, kissing up the back of Zim’s head and running the tip of his nose along the length of Zim’s antenna before taking the end in his mouth. He sucked on it while Zim rocked back and forth beneath him, their movements timed so that their hips collided forcefully and Zim was stretched to his limits .

“When I’ve got my cock back … I want to help you make love to me,” Zim squeaked out.

“Anything I could be doing better?” Dib purred, soft and close and eager to please.

“No, Dib … you’re perfect,” Zim whimpered as Dib rolled his hips with the slightest scooping motion, rubbing his cock against all the nerve clusters in Zim’s walls. “I just love the thought of pleasuring myself with you like that.”

Dip pressed his forehead against the back of Zim’s neck and slammed his hips against Zim, causing him to chirp Dib’s name over and over.

“I love holding you down,” Dib panted as he kissed the back of Zim’s neck. “Especially with how round and soft you’re getting …”

He put a hand on Zim’s thigh, sliding it up and around the front, between Zim’s body and the thoroughly soaked pillow. He pressed his fingertips against the soft skin just above Zim’s pussy and rubbed, eliciting a breathy trill from the alien underneath him.

“Stay still but keep doing that thing with your hand,” Zim whispered as he proceeded to grind against Dib’s hand. Dib was deep inside him, cock overloading all his sensitive inside bits, and every time Zim rocked back and forth, the combination of internal and external pleasure was enough to completely overwhelm him. Dib’s body was hot and heavy on top of him, with Dib planting aimless kisses wherever he could reach.

Zim shoved a hand down to accompany Dib’s, holding it by the wrist and vigorously pleasuring himself against it as he pressed his face into the blankets. The balls of his feet pressed down against the mattress, toes splayed out, as his ecstatic moans grew louder and higher. As the wave of his orgasm finally crashed ashore, taking him by surprise, his body trembled as he shrieked into the sheets, before trembling and relaxing under Dib’s weight.

“I guess I’m still not half bad with my fingers,” Dib said with a laugh, starting to pull out and extricate his hand. 

Zim abruptly pinned Dib’s legs with his own and trapped Dib’s hand against him. “I want you to finish …” he panted, turning his head to glance upwards.

“Seems almost rude after you just had such a breathtaking orgasm.”

“Then give me another one! It feels good when you cum inside me …” Zim whispered, blushing furiously.

“Still?" Dib asked surprised. "I really thought that was going to be tied to you being in heat …”

“It’s …” Zim buried his head in embarrassment. “It’s the one time your cock actually moves and between that and how good it feels to be completely filled up by you and how amazing you smell when you climax …” He whimpered, giving a desperate thrust backwards. “Give it to me … please …” he begged.

“How could I not, when you ask so nicely?” Dib murmured. He reached for the ends of Zim’s antennae and slipped them into his mouth, moaning around them as he slowly slid his cock out and then back in, savoring all the intricacies of their closeness.

Underneath him, Zim tensed and shivered. 

“When you’re making noise like that, I can feel it through my entire body …” Zim resumed rubbing against Dib’s hand, pressing his ass back against his mate’s hips. “I love it …”

Dib ran his tongue over the antennae in his mouth, sucking gently while he focused all his attention on pleasuring Zim; pressing his fingertips in just enough while he used Zim’s moans to guess at where his tentacle was hiding and thrusting against him with enough force to elicit excited chirps on top of it.

Zim spread his legs as wide as he could, kicking them up behind him and crossing them at the ankles to press against Dib’s ass.

“Harder …” he begged a more-than-willing Dib. The impact that deep inside his body felt phenomenal, and the deep moans rumbling up from Dib’s throat reverberated around his antennae in a way that overwhelmed his senses. He was just about convinced that he was going to get off before his human yet again, when Dib suddenly gave a wide-mouthed exclamation, resulting in Zim’s antennae springing past his lips.

Zim pressed back hard against Dib’s hips, feeling Dib desperately thrust against him a handful of times before his throbbing member spilled over. Zim came with a rapturous shriek as the sensations between his legs pushed him over the edge a second time. 

Dib collapsed into top of him, panting and kissing his shoulders as cum dripped down between their bodies.

Zim rubbed against the pillow between his legs while his nerve endings were still turned up to eleven. “I think I ruined your pillow,” he mumbled with his face buried in the mattress.

Dib nuzzled against the back of his neck. “There’s a lot of things I’ll put between your legs, but  _ my  _ pillow isn’t one of them. That one was yours.”

“I hope you’ve gotten all that out of your systems because if you do that in  _ my  _ house, there will be a cleaning fee.”

The sudden voice behind them made Dib sit up so fast he fell clear off the bed, giving the thoroughly nonplussed Lard Nar a clear view of Zim’s ass.

“Your house?” Zim asked, struggling to push himself up and taking his sweet time to turn around. He knelt on the bed, stark naked, trying to ignore the cum sluicing down his thighs.

Lard Nar did his best to maintain eye contact, but Zim watched his eyes momentarily wander below Zim’s waist before snapping back up as he grimaced.

“Ugh … yes, looks like you two are going to be staying with me. I have an empty room at the moment and you’ll be safest where I can keep an eye on you,” Lard Nar said. He looked from Zim, who was kneeling in a small puddle and pretending not to notice it, to Dib, who was hiding most of himself around the corner of the bed. “In case you’re wondering … I already regret it.”

“You’re the one who wanted to know how I ended up pregnant,” Zim said with a shrug. “Welcome to step number one.”

“Are you going to be this insufferable the  _ entire _ time?” Lard Nar asked, exasperated. “I’m trying to help you out here, Zim. You’d do well to quit acting like an embarrassment.”

Zim opened his mouth, then thought better of it and closed it again, glowering.

“Clean up and pack. I’ll be back to fetch the two of you in a little while.” 

He spun around brusquely and left the ship, leaving the two of them to sit in nervous silence that was only broken once Zim eventually huffed irritably and climbed off the bed. 

“I hate how he has the power to make me feel like a smeet again,” Zim groused as he stomped his way to the shower.

Dib jumped up and followed at his heels. “It wouldn’t hurt to play nice until we get what we need.”

“I know. It’s just …” Zim searched for the words he was looking for while he turned on the shower. “Being back here is weird. On the one hand, working here, away from other Irkens, was the happiest I ever was.”

He looked over at Dib in time to catch a hurt expression flicker across his face.

“Until I took you as my mate, Dib. Don’t sulk,” he said, shoving him under the water and proceeding to vigorously scrub him clean.

Dib was about to argue that he could clean himself,  _ thank you,  _ but decided to let it go and allow Zim to do it to his specifications.

“On the other hand … this is where all of my problems started. Miyuki dying. Spork dying. Red and Purple making me the scapegoat for every little thing. Not like there weren’t hiccups before that. This is just where it all started to fall apart. I don’t know how to feel about any of this and after so many years of being a free agent … I resent being bossed around by someone who knew me when I was barely two feet high.”

Dib stifled a laugh and Zim spun him around before irritably washing the front of him.

“I don’t see how that's  _ funny _ , Dib,” Zim said with a glare.

“I’m not trying to invalidate you,” Dib said gently. “I was just thinking that, given our mutual resentment at being told what to do, these smeets are going to be a handful.”

Zim looked up, blinking water out of his eyes. “You’re _really_ still on board with this?”

Dib hugged him. “Of course I am. You’ve already given them names. How could I  _ not  _ be?”

“I’m just worried the reality of what’s going on is going to hit you and then you’re going to … leave me or something,” Zim mumbled.

“I love you too much for that, and I’m going to remind you as often as I need to. I’ll even remind the smeets.” He crouched down to be eye level with Zim’s belly. “Hey little guys. This is your daily reminder that I love your momma and we’re going to be the first faces you see when you finally hatch.” He gave Zim a little kiss and looked up.

“Don’t call me ‘momma’ … it’s weird,” Zim said, blushing.

Dib stood back up. “Space momma?” he ventured.

“Ew. Way to get yourself banned from pet names, Dib.”

Once they were dressed and nearly finished packing, Lard Nar finally reappeared.

“Fascinating … what's the pouch for?” he asked, taking in Zim’s bright pink hoodie.

Zim pulled out his phone. “Earth communicators, mostly.” He turned and saw Dib attempting to cram as many packages of instant noodles in his bag as possible. “Leave those for the return trip, Dib! They’ve got food on Vort.”

Dib sighed. “Is it wiggly?”

“Completely stationary. I promise,” Lard Nar said.

Dib pulled most of the packages of noodles out of his bag and put them back in the cabinet before slinging it over his shoulder and walking to the front of the ship. 

“Alright. Ready whenever you are,” Dib said, putting an arm around Zim. 

“Before I bring you down, I’m going to need to chip both of you,” Lard Nar said, pulling a small device that looked like a thick pen out of his pocket.

Zim stopped back. “Whoa … you want to microchip us like  _ criminals _ ??”

The Vortian rolled his eyes. “Everyone on Vort has these, Zim. The planet’s on lockdown. It’s how we keep track of who is supposed to be here and who isn’t. Plus, they’re needed for the transporters. You’re not getting down without them.”

“We’ve got similar things on earth,” Dib said with a shrug. “You put them by a reader and they attenuate to send back a signal. They’re already in our student IDs, so this is hardly any different. And at least we can’t lose these ones after a drunken night out,” he added with a smirk.

“Alright. Fine. Do mine first,” Zim said, holding out his hand.

Lard Nar positioned the device between Zim’s thumb and index finger and pressed the button in with a click. A flash of light emanated from the other end and Zim felt a quick pinch. When he pulled his hand away, there was a slight sore spot, but nothing too concerning.

Lard Nar turned to Dib, who took a step back.

“You’re not going to sterilize that thing?” he asked skeptically.

“That flash you just saw is condensed UV light. Destroys microorganisms. It might give you a slight sunburn, but other than that, it’s perfectly safe and the entire instrument is completely sterile,” the Vortian explained.

Dib held his hand out tentatively.

There was another click, a flash from the device, and then a sharp pinch that took Dib by surprise.

He jerked his hand back. “Ow! You didn’t tell me it was gonna—”

Feedback suddenly whined in his ears and he felt the whole ship pitch sideways as his legs went out from under him.

Zim reacted before Dib could even hit the ground, catching him and lowering him slowly.

Dib looked up and could see Zim’s lips moving, but it sounded like Zim was talking underwater and he couldn’t make heads or tails of anything being said. He looked up as Lard Nar replied, but nothing he said made any sense, either. For a moment, there was only static and a high whine like the sound of manually tuning a radio. There was a sudden pop before the sound suddenly returned to normal and words started attaching to actual meaning in Dib’s brain.

“—the fuck did you inject into him??” Zim yelled. 

“It was the same as yours!” Lard Nar said, eyes wide. “I’ve never seen a reaction like that!”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Dib said with audible relief. 

Zim hugged him tight. “My Dib!! You’re okay … what happened??”

“Everything went all weird for a second. I could kind of hear, but I couldn’t understand anything you two were saying.”

A series of emotions suddenly crossed Zim’s face; confusion, then abrupt realization, then anger. He looked at Lard Nar, antennae trembling furiously. 

“Those things are transmitting,” he said, bristling.

Lard Nar didn’t immediately reply.

“Don’t try to lie to me, you fucking space goat,” Zim spat. “There’s a chip in Dib’s head that tethers to my PAK’s universal translator. Whatever you just put in him disrupted the signal.”

Lard Nar shook his head and his wide-eyed stare was replaced with a relieved smile. “Oh, thank goodness! I was worried something had gone horribly wrong for a moment there!”

A throbbing headache had begun at the base of Dib’s skull and he held Zim tightly. Too bad he was fresh out of boot aspirin.

“All of these chips monitor vital signs and upload the data back to our central database. It’s standard. Makes sorting out medical emergencies a lot easier,” Lard Nar explained.

Zim narrowed his eyes but said nothing and helped Dib to his feet.

“An implantable universal translator, though,” Lard Nar continued, looking impressed. “Fascinating … I’d expect nothing less from my protege, of course.”

“I figured it was easier than teaching him Irken and Universal Standard from scratch,” Zim said guardedly, still keeping a protective grip on his human.

“And it uses your PAK?” Lard Nar pressed. 

Zim cast his old mentor a very suspicious look before collecting Dib’s bag and putting a supportive arm around Dib to help him up. “It interfaces with the universal translator. Not the entire PAK. We’re already around each other all the time. I highly doubt Dib wants me up in his head, as well,” Zim said, forcing a smile. “Right, Dib?”

Dib blinked, his headache making him feel slow. “Oh. Yeah. Gotta have some secrets.”

Lard Nar nodded. “Yes. Of course."

Zim was still giving Lard Nar an odd look, but the Vortian turned away towards the door as if he hadn't noticed.

"Anyway! If you’re feeling alright, now, just follow me.”

They made their way off the ship, Zim still holding onto Dib because he looked a bit shaken up and wobbly. Zim remotely closed the ship up and locked it.

“That better still be here when I got back,” he said with a glance in Lard Nar’s direction.

“It won’t be going anywhere; don’t worry,” Lard Nar replied with a dismissive hand-wave. “The plan for the evening is to get you settled in, feed you, and then anything in the library is yours.”  He directed a concerned look towards Dib. “Are you feeling alright? You’re looking a bit pale, still.”

“It’s just a headache,” Dib said dismissively. “I’m sure it’ll pass.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Lard Nar said with a shrug. “Just hold tight and we’ll be down on the planet’s surface in a moment.”

Zim’s eyes went wide as he processed the implications of that statement. “Wait, when you said 'transporters', you meant—”

Before he could finish his sentence, he was cut off by the unpleasant sensation of being abruptly pulled apart and then unceremoniously crushed back together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates should happen faster now! I actually had to break up the chapter I finished, otherwise it would have been too long. Nobody wants a SIXTY PAGE UPDATE, right???


	8. Not Half as Strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first day on Vort goes better than planned. Zim's first taste of Irken history isn't what he expected. There is some sensual moonlight fucking.  
> *************************************************************************************  
> Check me out on [Tumblr](https://starlitvesper.tumblr.com/), [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/starlitvesper/) and [Twitter (18+ ONLY)](https://twitter.com/starlitvesper) for snippets, updates, my art, ugly selfies and posts about my cats!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had maybe too much fun world-building and dumping all my weird headcanons into this and the next few chapters ... Novelty is supposed to be the spice of life and all that.
> 
> Part II is literally just smut and feelings porn. Though I'm pretty sure that's what you're here for.
> 
> (If you're a Patreon subscriber, these were posted as parts 1&2 of chapter 8, but under a different chapter title. There has been some light editing since then.)

_ You said a long, long time ago  
You were happy being someone  
Let's go far, far, far from home  
I'll be glad to be with someone _

[ \- Faded Paper Figures, _North By North_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IOLTn_5Y51A)

* * *

_I_.

Things briefly went dark and then Zim found himself standing outside a gleaming metal building, gasping and holding Dib to him tightly. 

“Y-you have teleportation technology??” Zim wheezed as soon as he was able to draw air into his corporeal lungs. “How long have you had that??”

Lard Nar smirked. “You didn’t think our exiled scientists were just sitting on their asses all these years, did you?” 

He made his way towards the building and Zim hurried along, steering a panicked-looking and slightly green Dib along with him. Poor Dib would have loved a few more precious seconds to soak in their new surroundings, but his focus was suddenly maxed out on attempting to put one foot in front of the other and avoid falling flat on his face.

“What’s the range on it??” Zim asked excitedly, all earlier skepticism forgotten in the face of all the technological wonders he’d clearly been missing out on while exiled to the far corner of the galaxy. "Can you use that to just zap us and the ship back to Earth when we're done here?

“Across a distance like _that_?" Lard Nar said with an eyebrow raise. "Unless we can fine-tune the mechanics, you could end up half phased into a building, or missing a limb, or scattered as atoms on the breeze."

Dib did a quick count of all his extremities and was relieved to find them all accounted for.

"Well, how far have you successfully tested it?" Zim pestered.

"Easy, Zim. I can't be divulging all our trade secrets just yet."

They stopped in front of the glass door on the closest building and Lard Nar gestured towards the reader next to it. “You should have access to this part of the University. Give it a try.”

Zim stopped and finally looked around, taking in the smattering of multi-story buildings scattered across the pinkish terrain. “You’ve set up education centers already??” He waved his hand and the door opened.

“Of course! Getting everyone back up to speed and building defense technology are some of the highest priorities,” Lard Nar said, leading them along.

The hallways were bright and Zim snuck a peek through the glass doorways as they passed, where Vortians were tinkering with various experiments. It was almost indistinguishable from their own university back on earth. The familiarity was oddly comforting, in a way.

Lard Nar led them into an elevator which rapidly shot up to the top floor, where the lights were softer and the doors were fewer and far between. Glass made up the entirety of the outside wall, treating them to a stunning view of the campus buildings gleaming in the high-noon sunlight. The bright pink of the plants that covered the ground below seemed hyper-saturated and almost surreal, though not out of place amongst the purples and reds and oranges of the groves that surrounded the campus grounds. Lard Nar came to an abrupt halt and his guests came very close to plowing into the back of him in their distraction. The Vortian waved his hand and the door in front of them slid open.

“Here we are — my home. And yours, for the time being.”

Zim gave him a perplexed expression. “You live in an _apartment_ above the labs??” He made no attempt to hide his disappointment. Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this. “Aren’t you this planet’s Tallest??”

Lard Nar shepherded them inside and the door shut behind them. Despite the fact that it was, indeed, an apartment above a laboratory, it was far from austere. The floors were made from dark purple wood and white, almost opalescent stone. They seemed to be standing in the living room, with the kitchen visible to one side and a hallway off to the other. The far wall was all glass, with a balcony running along it. Plants that looked an awful lot like earth succulents covered much of the length of the balcony, soaking up the sun.

Dib was staring, open-mouthed and attempting to process his surroundings while Zim was still waiting for an answer.

“There are people much taller than me, Zim,” Lard Nar replied with a smirk. “Height isn’t everything.”

“You know what I mean!” Zim said, exasperated. “I got the impression you’re in charge around here.”

“I am. I’m Head Scientist of Vort, and of our flagship university. I’ve got experiments to look over, though, so this is the most convenient setup. I’m responsible for everything going on below us.” He headed in the direction of the hallway and motioned for Zim and Dib to follow him. “I’ll show you to your room so you can finally set your things down.”

Zim took Dib by the arm, as he was still gawking at the interior. Dib wordlessly pointed up, and Zim suddenly noticed the LED arrays that made up the ceiling.

“What are all the lights for?” Zim asked as they trotted down the hall.

“LiFi,” Lard Nar replied. “We try to cut down on the amount of noise in the airwaves as much as we can. There’s an awful lot of information exchange going on.”

They stopped in front of a frosted glass door that rolled aside when they stepped in front of it. Initially, the room appeared to lack a bed. There was a small kitchenette off to one side, a bathroom on the other, several bookshelves covered in more plants, and yet another glass wall with a balcony beyond it.

Dib finally looked up and spied the loft beneath the skylights. He grabbed Zim’s arm excitedly.

“Oh my god … _Zim_. We live here now,” he whispered.

“We can’t _stay here_ , Dib. For a number of reasons,” Zim replied, voice low.

“Okay, _fine_. We’re building a replica of this place once we’re done with school, though.”

Lard Nar put a hand on Zim’s shoulder, making him flinch slightly. He wasn’t used to anyone except Dib making physical contact with him and, if he had any say in the matter, he wasn’t about to get used to it.

“You two settle in. I’ll get going on lunch, and you can feel free to wander the grounds in the meantime.” He turned, stopped, then glanced back over his shoulder. “Oh, are you still allergic to meat, Zim?”

Zim pulled a face. “Still as allergic as ever.”

“I'll keep that in mind. My cooking hasn’t killed anyone yet.”

He made his way back out into the hallway, and Dib immediately sprinted up to the loft and tossed himself at the bed.

“It’s a waterbed, Zim!! Fuck, you might not be able to get me to leave …”

“It’s probably a gel,” Zim said absent-mindedly. He was scanning the room, looking for anything out of place. He wandered into the en-suite bathroom and tapped the mirror. It sounded like it was mounted to the wall, with no space in between. Just to be certain, he switched on the lights and looked closely, then checked the lights themselves. Everything else was so seamless that it didn’t bear looking too hard at. Satisfied, he walked back into the room, where Dib was giving him an odd look.

“What are you doing?” he asked quizzically.

Zim made his way up and sat on the side of the bed.

“I’m switching both of us back to English for the moment,” Zim said quietly. 

“Huh? Why? What’s going on?”

Zim paused a moment, conflicted. It might be nothing. He might be about to get Dib riled up for no real reason. But, on the off chance he was right, it was worth looping Dib in.

“Something feels weird here,” he admitted. “I’m looking for surveillance equipment, but I’ve got a bad feeling that the thing we need to worry about is what got implanted in us before we were beamed down here.”

Dib’s face fell. “What makes you think that??”

“Did you see Lard Nar’s face when I called him out?” Zim asked.

“He was just freaked out by what happened to me,” Dib said. “... Wasn’t he?”

“Sure. But he also didn’t immediately respond when I correctly guessed that these things are transmitting,” Zim muttered. “Let’s be careful for the moment. Switch to English when we’re alone. Avoid mentioning anything too sensitive while we’re in front of Vortians. It might just be my paranoia but … something has felt weird ever since he offered us this deal. The way he looked at me …” Zim shivered. “I felt like somebody’s science experiment …”

Dib pulled him close and kissed his cheek. “Alright. If you really think something weird is going on, I’ll be careful.”

“I’m just glad you don’t think I’m nuts,” Zim said as he leaned against him. “Want to see if we can get out of here for a little while? Might be nice to stretch our legs after three days of being cooped up.”

“Let’s go. Grand conspiracy or not, this is probably the coolest planet I’ve been to yet.”

They slid off the bed and made their way back to the entryway. As Dib looked out the windows, watching the shadows of the trees dance as the sun beamed down overhead, it suddenly dawned on him that it was somehow a bright, sunny day despite the nebulous purple clouds they’d flown through.

“Hey, Lard Nar,” Dib called as they stepped into the kitchen.

The Vortian was pulling things from various cabinets but popped his head around to look at Dib. “Hm?”

“We flew through some pretty significant cloud cover on our way down … how’s it so sunny out there?”

“The clouds are leftover from what Irk did to kill off most of the flora and fauna,” Lard Nar explained. “We left them, since they make the planet look uninhabited and it’s a great place to hide our first line of defense, as you saw. We have artificial solar lights that simulate our star and stellar holograms that simulate the sky at night. From space, this planet looks as though it’s still an Irken-occupied wasteland, but from the surface, you can’t even tell we’re under a kilometer or so of clouds.”

“Must be a bummer for observatories,” Dib remarked. “I’m studying astronomy back on Earth. I think I’d go a little nuts without access to an old school telescope.”

“We have orbiting satellite telescopes streaming around the clock. They’re easy enough to access if you really want to see a select section of the sky. But you’re right, it isn’t quite the same,” Lard Nar said with a sad smile.

The Vortians had clearly done a lot in a short period of time but Dib had to wonder how heavily the necessary concessions weighed on them.

“Is it alright for the two of us to take a walk outside?” Zim asked suddenly. “I’d enjoy some fresh air, but it just occurred to me that an Irken and an alien from the other side of the galaxy might attract some unwanted attention …”

“Oh, I’ve already sent out a message to the campus, letting them know we have some guests who would prefer not to be approached. No one should bother you,” Lard Nar assured him. “Will you have to attend an honorary dinner? Almost certainly. But no one is going to harass you in the streets. The students get every other day off and today is one of them, anyhow. It should be pretty deserted out there.”

Zim looked dubious.

“If you want something a little quieter, you can take the emergency stairs off the balcony and head back towards the nature preserve. Go see all the creatures and plants the ecology department has re-introduced.”

“I like the sound of that,” Dib said, taking Zim’s hand and heading towards the balcony. “Thanks!”

“Not a problem. Just be back in an hour for lunch!”

Zim gave a little wave of acknowledgement before they disappeared out the door to the balcony.

It was a warm early summer day and as the two looked up, there was a hint of violet in the sky, but nothing overly noticeable. They made their way down the stairs, taking in the tree line and various succulent-type plants. When they reached the ground, Dib immediately knelt down and ran a hand over the pink and purple grass-type plant that seemed to cover most of the planet’s surface. It was soft under his fingertips and covered with a thick layer of fuzzy hairs, much like the lamb’s ear plants back on earth.

“Stop petting the grass, Dib. You’re being weird,” Zim said from a short ways in front of him, looking frazzled. “That’s a great way to draw attention to ourselves.”

Dib stood up and sprinted the short distance. “Sorry! This is the most Earth-like planet I’ve been on and it’s fascinating … everywhere else has been an industrial hellscape and I was expecting Vort to be the same since it’s full of scientists …”

“I guess it would be more accurate to say that Vort is full of scholars,” Zim mused, slipping his hand into Dib’s. “Sure, their engineering department was what Irk was interested in. But their history department has information on most of the Galaxy for the past few thousand years, they have linguists and a vibrant arts community. Those were smaller when I was here but …” He suddenly looked wistful. “I was always _jealous_ while I was working with Lard Nar. Vortian smeets are raised in communal family groups so they had a dozen adults who cared about them and they could go out under the light of their own star during the day and look up and see the Galaxy at night and I was … grown in a test tube on a planet where you can’t see the sky _at all_ and the closest things I had to parents were Miyuki and Lard Nar and then suddenly … I had no one …”

He sounded soul-shatteringly morose and Dib gently squeezed his hand.

“I’m sorry that all you’ve got is me for the moment,” he said softly as they followed the path into a forest of palm tree lookalikes.

“All I _need_ right now is you,” Zim replied, leaning against him. “And GIR. And the smeets, of course. But in terms of support systems … you’re everything I need.”

They proceeded further down the path, surrounded by bright succulents that wouldn’t have been out of place on earth and bordered by a small stream to the side of the path. Creatures chattered in the canopy, out of sight, and the shadows swayed as a soft breeze rippled through the trees.

“Do you miss your family?” Zim asked suddenly. “You haven’t really talked to either of them since you left for college, right?”

“I’ve … talked to Gaz. But only a little bit,” Dib said, kicking a rock down the path. “I know that’s stupid when we go to the same school and she lives right across campus but …” He kicked the rock again, harder and further this time. “ _All_ she does is defend _everything_ Dad does. She’s been on me to accept his financial help for school now that I’ve switched majors but … I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.”

“Have you talked to her about why she’s at the same school as us?” Zim asked. “She’s past doing that sort of thing out of sheer spite, I’d imagine.”

Dib shrugged. “She just says it’s because going to some fancy school on Professor Membrane’s dime looks bad. Which is ridiculous. _Nothing_ she ever does looks bad to Dad or anyone else, for that matter. Meanwhile, I can’t do anything right, no matter how hard I try to.” His shoulders suddenly slumped and a worried look crossed his face. “My dad can never know we’re having kids … getting you pregnant in the middle of college? I would never hear the end of it.”

“Well, first you’d have to explain the ‘how’ and that will _absolutely_ land me and the smeets on an autopsy table,” Zim said nervously. “I’m fine with you cutting contact with your dad. I encourage it, even. He’s done so many awful things to you. Not to mention, once we started dating, he was the one I was most nervous about. If he ever figured out what I am?” Zim shuddered. “I know I’d be cut apart, studied, sewn back together, and experimented on for the rest of my life. Your dad is terrifying …”

“I would hope he wouldn’t be heartless enough to kidnap my own partner for research purposes, but then I have to remind myself of the way he’s treated me, personally,” Dib said darkly, pulling Zim a little closer for comfort.

Zim put an arm around him, feeling helpless. After all these years, there was still overt betrayal in Dib’s voice whenever the topic of Professor Membrane happened to come up. 

“I’ll never forget how he tried to abandon me to those crackpot ‘psychiatrists’ in that shitty excuse for a psych ward,” Dib said quietly. “That’s all it took to convince me he’s a total sociopath, and there is fuckall I could do in the event that you’re in danger because of him. He’s absolutely not coming anywhere near our kids. I’ll get a fucking restraining order if I have to.”

Zim looked up, surprised. “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to cut you off from your family _for good_. You don’t have to get the legal system involved.”

Dib stared ahead, looking sullen. “Oh, I know. But I still kinda _want to_. I’ve got my _own_ family now and he’s not getting the chance to ruin that for me.”

They eventually made their way back to their temporary home, where their host was nearly finished with lunch. Dib was relieved to find it was some sort of noodle dish that made no attempt to crawl off his plate. After having only experienced the diviest, grungiest fast-food eateries this side of M13, being fed a home-cooked meal on an alien planet was a near-religious experience.

“At some point today,” Lard Nar said as they started to tuck in, “I want to get some basic readings and scans done on the two of you. Baseline stuff. We don’t really have current information on Irkens and we _definitely_ don’t have any information on … whichever pre-contact species exists in the Proxima Centauri neighborhood,” he said, gesturing in Dib’s direction with a pair of chopsticks.

“Human,” Dib mumbled helpfully through a mouthful of food.

“Ah, yes. Thank you. Also, I’m curious how you two managed to make viable embryos. Irkens have historically had a preternatural ability to mate with almost anything, but we really don’t have much empirical information on current Irken DNA and how it combines.”

“How much information _do_ you have on Irkens?” Zim asked. Given Irk and Vort’s long history of collaboration, coupled with the Vortian appetite for knowledge, he assumed it was anything but paltry.

“Plenty, up until the Control Brains took over. Then Irken biology and PAK architecture both became need-to-know information. And it’s not exactly like we could just scavenge battlefields,” Lard Nar said with a knowing look, causing Zim to look a bit pale.

“Why is that?” Dib asked, though he had a feeling he’d regret it once he had the answer.

“PAK technology is so highly guarded that captured Irkens are required to self destruct rather than give away their secrets. On the battlefield, PAKs will either transport a failing or expired body back to base or, in the event that’s not an option …” He mimed an explosion. “It’s certainly _one way_ to keep your technology proprietary.”

Dib shot Zim a horrified look the realization dawned on him. “Wait. So, if I had caught you and had irrefutable evidence that you were an alien, you would have …?”

“Exploded, probably,” Zim mumbled, pushing his food around on his plate.

“Well, that’s a horrifying thought,” Dib said, reaching for Zim’s hand.

“If you’re looking for PAK data, I can’t help you and I highly doubt you’re going to be able to force anything out of me,” Zim warned, looking at Lard Nar.

His mentor waved his hands. “Oh, no! I wasn’t thinking of going that route. I just want to sequence some genomes, get some anatomical scans … things of that nature."

Zim relaxed slightly. "Good. I think Dib would prefer it if you avoided anything that would end in me exploding."

"I prefer it that way, myself," Lard Nar said with a chuckle. "As soon as we’re finished here, I’ll escort you to the library and turn you loose for a bit. The lab will be free later so I can get preliminary data then. Outside of that, I don’t have much planned beyond dinner, so you can feel free to come and go as you please.”

Zim was tempted to dump the entire plate in his mouth, grab Dib — who was a painfully slow eater — and dash for the library, but he forced himself to slow down and attempted to ignore how strange it felt to be back on Vort after so long. It might have been less awkward under other circumstances; namely, circumstances where he wasn’t trying to plan for four future smeets. He was also still leery of his old mentor and the longer he had to hide his suspicions while sitting across from him, the more nervous he felt.

He was about ready to anxiously vibrate out of this plane of existence by the time the table was cleared and Lard Nar led them out of the apartment.

“I’m a little shocked the entire library survived Vort being occupied by Irkens,” Dib said as they started off down the hall.

“My people might be destructive, but they know better than to destroy the galaxy’s largest collection of data,” Zim replied, sounding slightly miffed.

“It wouldn’t be very useful to destroy it anyhow,” Lard Nar said. “There are backups of the archives hidden at various locations. The hard copies of texts aren’t even housed at the actual library. There are replicas, sure, but they’re mostly for ambiance.”

They headed into a skyway that hovered just above the tops of the palms and connected to a building that was definitely out of place amongst the other gleaming metal structures. It was the same white marble from inside the apartment, with sharpened spires protruding from the top. As they passed through the entrance, Dib’s mouth hung open. The inside of the library was cavernous, open at the center with multiple rings of floors around the perimeter. Smack in the middle, what he assumed were server racks stretched from floor to ceiling, with glowing coolant pumped around them. Floating orbs around the interior produced a soft, warm light that brightened all the otherwise corners as artificial sunlight filtered down from a stained-glass skylight. Dib looked towards Zim, who didn’t seem nearly as awestruck.

“This place is _amazing_ ,” Dib whispered.

“Eh … Nothing’s changed much since I was here as a smeet,” Zim said nonchalantly with a little shrug. Unlike the rest of the planet, the library was the one thing that looked almost exactly as he remembered it. 

Dib hip bumped him and shot him an annoyed look. Zim skittered sideways across the steps and then crossed his arms irritably.

“Oh, _fine_ … that server setup is new, I guess,” Zim mumbled. “More glowy than the last time I was here.”

“Would it kill you to quit being such a wet blanket?” Dib asked, rolling his eyes.

“Give him a break, Dib,” Lard Nar chimed in, looked over his shoulder as they trotted down the stairs. “Irkens don’t really have an eye for design the way Vortians do.”

“Or humans,” Dib said. “We had to overhaul the base’s design when we moved it.”

“Function over form?” Lard Nar quipped with a knowing smile.

Dib laughed. “How’d you guess? When I got there, it was just a living room and kitchen sandwiched in between a loose series of labs.”

Zim glowered beside them. “I’m _sorry_ , I must have missed that ‘Shit on Zim Day’ was a national holiday around here!” he said, a touch too loud. A number of heads shot up and swiveled in their direction but Zim was too agitated to notice.

“Zim … hush …” Dib said out of the side of his mouth, attempting to move Zim between his body and the wall.

Zim jerked away. “Don’t you tell _me_ to hush, Dib! You spent _all morning_ being grumpy about there not being any sunlight and bitching about my plan and throwing a fit over not being privy to the entirety of my past!”

“Zim …” Dib warned.

“And, what?? Now I can’t tell you two to lay off a little?? I’ve been feeling miserable for 48 straight hours, not that you’ve bothered to check in with me _at all_! I’m starting to feel like _nobody_ cares about _Zim!!_ ” he wailed.

Dib just pointed wordlessly behind him.

“ _What,_ Dib?? You’re so keen to have a go at me, spit it out already!!”

“... I think maybe _they_ care about Zim,” Dib whispered.

Zim wheeled around to find that most of the library’s occupants were staring directly at him, and a number had what could only be cameras pointed in his direction. Zim rapidly spun back around and hurried behind his mate, blushing deeply. “Fuck … well, good thing I decided not to mention that this planet’s gravity is making my ankles swell …”

“Yes, it would be a shame if you’d said something _really_ personal and embarrassing,” Lard Nar said pointedly before turning and continuing down the stairs.

Zim opened his mouth but Dib squeezed his shoulder and he took the hint, though he still looked sullen about it.

Lard Nar led them down to the main level, where stacks of glass tablets sat in slots next to the towers of servers, and held out one to each of them.

“Palms here, please,” he said.

They did as they were told, and Dib was more than a little surprised to see his name, species, and DMV-esque neutral photo pop up on the screen. Zim glanced between the two tablets, gaze suspicious once more.

“I don’t remember you taking those photos,” Zim said with a sideways glance at Lard Nar. This invasion of privacy was wearing on his last nerve.

“Oh, we don’t waste time with photos. We have biometric scanners everywhere already, constantly pulling data, and we use that data to make a neutral composite,” Lard Nar explained, as if this sort of state surveillance were perfectly normal.

Zim’s antennae had dropped behind his head and he looked immensely displeased with the unauthorized use of his visage. His reaction didn’t escape Lard Nar’s notice.

“Zim, we’re under threat _constantly_ ,” Lard Nar said, tone serious. “We’ve had to ramp up security because of it. The least we can do is take the information we’re already gathering anyway, and use it to make things a little easier for our residents.”

Zim took his tablet, looking unconvinced but unwilling to complain further.

“I’ll give you the rundown and then turn you loose, alright?” Lard Nar looked between the two of them and, seeing no overt complaints, carried on. “The entirety of our library is at your fingertips, but only while you’re within these walls. We’ve got some ... obvious security concerns.”

“Is that really necessary?” Dib asked dubiously. “Zim and I had to travel three days across Irken-controlled space just to get access to ancient data on Irken biology and child-rearing. Should it really be that much of a hassle? Is what you’ve got here really that dangerous?”

“It’s _knowledge_. Of course it’s dangerous,” Lard Nar replied, with utter sincerity. 

“It’s just military strategy, Dib,” Zim said with a sigh. “If Vort keeps a strangle hold on the galaxy’s data, it means Vort can’t just be vaporized. At the end of the day, even Red and Purple aren’t brain-dead enough to punish Vort by destroying the universe’s most complete library.”

Lard Nar looked a little put-out. “Yes, all that is also true. Which is why I hope the enormity of the exception I’m making here isn’t lost on either of you.”

They both shrunk back slightly, Zim feeling chastised and Dib just plain feeling guilty for bringing up the topic in the first place.

“Lucky for you,” Lard Nar continued, putting the interruption behind him, “anything you download can be accessed anywhere you like. So I highly suggest you gather your sources now so you can go through them at your leisure.” He clasped his hands together and looked between the two of them. “And that’s about it! I’ll be back in a couple hours to bring you to the lab for baseline tests. Dinner is at sundown and the campus clock is set to go off then, too, so you shouldn’t be late getting back for that. Otherwise, happy learning!”

With that, Lard Nar trotted off back to his building, leaving Zim and Dib to stand awkwardly by themselves.

“Let’s find a place to sit,” Dib said, taking Zim’s hand. Getting physically comfortable was about as good a place to start as any.

There were a number of bowl-shaped alcoves on each level, their floors furnished with a heavy cushion and filled with pillows. Dib spotted one off to the side, in a quiet corner under the stairs, and led Zim over to it. They snuggled up beside each other and silently got to work, running search terms, skimming papers, and cross-referencing to make sure neither of them had downloaded the same thing.

Roughly three hours deep into research gathering, Zim caught the unmistakable sound of Dib snoring beside him, and looked over to find him fast asleep. Zim briefly considered waking him, but remembered how much harder the 53-hour Vortian day was on his native-Earthling mate. There was no harm in letting Dib nap until Lard Nar came to collect them. Plus, it gave Zim some time to process the rather disturbing information he’d stumbled across.

Many early texts about Irk detailed — in what Zim considered to be a rather tone-deaf manner — the Vortian kidnappings of Irkens for various experiments. Their longevity, genetic compatibility both in terms of mating and augmentation, and their relative hardiness compared to other species, had made them popular lab rats in this sector. Vortians had been one among many races who took part in this practice, but they were certainly the ones who had documented it the best. Sudden kidnapping was such a threat to Irkens that PAKs and the entire Cybernetic Revolution resulted as an attempt to safeguard Irk’s citizens and position the planet as a viable galactic power. Though how, exactly, his civilization went from cybernetic augmentation to the current system of Control Brains and growing smeets in test tubes was currently a mystery to him. And, unless Lard Nar had somehow overlooked the seminal research on the topic, it was likely to remain that way.

Zim was aware that Vort’s main concern at the moment was bringing down the Irken Empire in its entirety, not just merely beating them back. Zim still had mixed feelings over the destruction of his people. On the one hand, the lot of them were a bunch of vicious, murdering psychopaths who had emotionally abused him for his entire life and, at times, had actually _physically_ tortured him. He’d already cut ties with his Tallests. The Irken Armada insignia had been sand-blasted off his ship and GIR’s backside years ago now. Earth was his home and Dib was his mate. He wouldn’t be the last Irken anymore, no matter what transpired, because there would soon be four more to keep him company. On the other, the idea of the rest of the Irken race being gone forever still made his guts twist. The finality of it all was a difficult concept to process. But what made Zim nervous in the here and now was that Vort currently had their hands on not just an Irken, but an _anomalous_ Irken and his hybrid mate. 

Zim’s paranoia was finally getting the best of him as he wondered how far Lard Nar might go to get the information he needed to bring down the Empire. Some of the experiments that Zim had quickly scrolled past were on par with what he knew of Earth’s Nazi Regime and Imperial Unit 731. They were as brutal as they were senseless. _How much blood loss could an Irken suffer before expiring? What were their cold and heat tolerances? What were the effects of separating a nesting Irken from their young? What types of stress induced a miscarriage? What—_

Beside him, Dib shifted slightly, mumbling in the familiar way that told Zim that he was grudgingly becoming conscious. Dib nuzzled his shoulder and snuggled close before popping his head up to give Zim a squinty but concerned look. 

“Hey, little bug … you’re shaking. What’s wrong?” he slurred sleepily.

Zim leaned into the embrace. “I remember when all you used to call me was ‘Space Boy’,” he said softly.

“I remember when I meant it as an insult,” Dib said with a yawn. “But I’m serious … are you alright?”

Zim considered telling him everything right in that moment, but his mind lingered on the implants that he wasn’t entirely convinced weren’t recording their every word, so he downplayed his worries as best he could.

“I just wasn’t prepared for some of these texts to be so graphic,” he said with a nervous but dismissive laugh.

Dib nodded, then pulled him close and kissed the side of his face. “You know what I learned?”

“What’d you learn, Dib?” Zim sure hoped it was better than all of the terrifying information he’d gleaned.

“Irkens used to parent in communal groups, just like you mentioned with Vortians, and pregnant Irkens exhibit nesting behaviors that survived up through the last documented years before everything switched to test tubes. So if you start having a burning desire to steal all the hand towels, I guess we’ll know you’re getting close,” Dib said with a grin.

Zim cocked his head. “You’re … actually _really_ smitten with this whole thing, huh?”

Dib blushed. “I’m not usually so fluffy but … I love it,” he admitted softly. “Don’t get me wrong; some of it I _definitely_ find hot. Like how chubby you’re going to get. But also …” He leaned back, staring wide-eyed past the ceiling. “Holy shit, Zim. You’re gonna be a _mom_. We’re gonna have four small, terrifyingly smart and long-lived kids who will finally laugh at all my horrible dad jokes.” He hugged Zim close. “I finally get to have a _real_ family. And so do you. And I am so, _so_ happy for us.”

Zim was so close to his face, smiling and dewy-eyed, and for a moment, Dib lost himself in those twin raspberry pools awash in a galaxy of freckles. He reached out to stroke Zim’s cheek, skin soft and velvety under his thumb.

“Are you two always like this?” Lard Nar said, appearing just outside the alcove and making the love-struck couple jump.

“I’m not going to apologize to you for being in love with my mate,” Zim replied stonily, sitting up. “A year ago, we would have been driving you up the wall, arguing and trying to piss each other off. At least this is quiet.”

Lard Nar raised his eyebrows. “Pregnancy’s been a boon on the relationship, I take it?”

Zim was about to fire back an answer when two separate thoughts hit him at once. The first was that they’d continued to have almost completely smooth sailing ever since they’d first mated and — presumably — conceived. A trend that Zim was hopeful would continue. The second was that Lard Nar’s tone had once again switched from mere friendly conversation to almost clinical. Zim felt himself falling under the microscope once more, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“I’d like to think we’ve grown as people,” Zim said with an offhanded little shrug, watching Lard Nar closely.

“Ah, yes, that’s always what one hopes for,” the Vortian replied without missing a beat. “Well, if you’re all set, the lab is free so we can finally get some readings squared away.”

They stowed their tablets in Dib’s bag and followed Lard Nar to the lab. Zim stuck close to Dib, holding his hand tightly. In light of what he’d been reading, he was increasingly nervous around his old mentor.

“How’s the research coming along?” Lard Nar asked. 

If Zim were _slightly_ more paranoid, he might be worried about the Vortian reading his mind.

“I’ve still got a mountain of things to sift through, but the research papers on Irkens before the Cybernetic Revolution are … a tough read,” Zim said diplomatically, waiting to gauge Lard Nar’s reaction.

His old mentor actually looked a bit embarrassed. “Yes, I probably should have warned you about that. Vortians have always had an insatiable need for knowledge, and I regret that we haven’t always been so ... _ethical_ in our pursuits.”

“That’s sure _one way_ to put it …” Zim said under his breath.

“Zim …” Lard Nar fixed him with a weary glance. “You can’t hold me accountable for what my people did thousands of years ago any more than I can hold you personally responsible for the scores of civilizations that were razed and fell to the Irken Empire long before you were born.”

“Who says I’m holding you accountable?” Zim asked defensively.

Lard Nar stopped in the middle of the skyway and both Zim and Dib screeched to a halt to avoid running headlong into him,

“What’s going on, Zim?” Lard Nar asked, concern etched into his face. “You’ve been on edge since you got here. I’m starting to think you would have been more relaxed if you’d arrived to find the planet still under the thumb of the Empire.”

Zim suddenly felt ill. He knew he was going to have trouble pretending everything was fine. He had only just barely been holding it together before lard Nar called him out. He could continue to dodge the question — which was becoming increasingly more taxing — or he could just come clean.

 _Oh, what the hell._ If he was going to end up with his organs on display, he may as well get it over with.

“Between the fact that Vortians used to have no problem vivisecting Irkens and the fact that you’re trying to take down the Irken armada, I’m honestly concerned for my safety,” Zim admitted quietly. “You’ve got an Irken right here to study, a chance you might never get again and—”

“Zim,” Lard Nar said, cutting him off. His old mentor pushed up his goggles and Zim thought he actually looked rather tired underneath. Though it was a bit hard to tell through all the fur. “I’m not going to do you _bodily harm_ just because I want to take down the Empire. Even if we’d managed to capture an actual, active Irken Soldier, I’m not having anyone vivisected. And in your case, I want to know what makes you different from other Irkens.”

Zim’s antennae shot up in surprise before he had a chance to quash the feeling.

“You’ve got levels of empathy and emotional depth I’ve never seen in a member of the Irken race. You’re pair-bonded. You’re expecting smeets. It makes me wonder if the rest of your race might not be beyond saving. And besides …” Lard Nar smiled in a way that was thoroughly disarming. “I’ve got a paternal instinct when it comes to you, Zim. I couldn’t ship you off to be pulled apart anymore than I could my own child.”

Zim blinked in surprise. Maybe he hadn’t lost his only surviving parental figure after all. He looked down, suddenly embarrassed for his behavior.

“Sorry. Being back here has put me really on-edge … I probably don’t have to explain why,” he murmured.

Lard Nar put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright, Zim. I imagine I’d feel the same if I were in your position. Now, should we go take a look at those smeets?”

Zim nodded, feeling much more at ease. It was almost impossible for him to imagine how he had come to the conclusions that, up until a few moments ago, had seemed forgone. He made the rest of the trip to the lab feeling quite a bit lighter than he had all day. When they finally arrived at their destination, the lack of any sharp objects within sight further assuaged Zim’s fears.

“Alright — medical gowns for both of you,” the Vortian said, tossing them both pieces of clothing that were more Dib-sized than Zim-sized.

They spent the next couple hours hooked up to various machines, scanned, swabbed, and pricked for blood samples. Although it was anxiety-provoking for both of them, Zim was more and more convinced that he’d been a touch too paranoid about his old mentor.

“This won’t hurt the smeets, will it?” Zim asked as one of the machines above him hummed to life.

“No need to worry!” Lard Nar replied from behind the controls. “It’s completely non-invasive.”

Dib stood next to his worried mate, stroking Zim’s antennae reassuringly.

“Huh … fascinating …”

“What?” Zim asked, brow creased with concern.

“How much do you know about your species’ biology?” Lard Nar queried, looking out from behind the control panel.

“Uhhh … I’ve got a squeedlyspooch, a heart, there’s some blood in there, I guess … _two_ types of sexual organs, if that’s relevant …” He trailed off with a curious look.

“All Irkens have two,” Lard Nar said offhandedly.

Zim exchanged a bewildered look with Dib, his worldview suddenly smashed into a million tiny pieces in an instant.

“What? No … most species aren’t intersex … Irkens are no exception, right?” he asked frantically. “I … thought I was special …”

“No. Yes, they are. And yes, you are. In that particular order,” Lard Nar said while Zim just started at him, more out of his depth than ever.

“I … what?” Zim squeaked helplessly.

“Our records are old, so this may have changed,” Lard Nar warned him, “but Irken genitalia exists along a spectrum. 90% of the time, one set is more developed than the other. The other 10% fall right in the middle, with both sets fully functional. In pre-Cybernetic Irken societies, these intermediate specimens usually ended up in a permanent caretaker role, either siring or carrying pregnancies as needed.”

“S … smeetery workers …” Zim stuttered out.

Lard Nar gave him an odd look. “Err, yes, I suppose that would be the current analog.”

“That’s what I was originally supposed to be … well, after the whole ‘getting Miyuki killed’ incident,” Zim said, still sounding a touch bitter. “But I didn’t want to be one. Most Irkens never argue with their assigned role but I wanted to be an Invader so badly and I think the Tallest were so concerned about me taking care of smeets that they switched me.” Zim glanced worriedly at Lard Nar. “Can you tell if they’re okay in there? If they’re going to need PAKs when they come out?”

“There’s a lot I don’t know yet,” Lard Nar replied, disappearing behind the control panel. “But if you’d like to come take a look, it seems they’re progressing as normal.”

Zim took Dib’s hand and let him help him to the floor. They walked around the other side of the console and Lard Nar turned the monitor in their direction. Inside the eggs were creatures that had just begun to look like smeets.

“They’re still in that awkward blobby phase, huh?” Dib said with a grin.

He was expecting a retort, but Zim just looked up at him, eyes misty. “... Babies …” he said softly.

Dib pulled him into a side hug and kissed the top of his head. “Our babies.”

Seeing the eggs on Zim’s initial scan had been one thing, but seeing the smeets inside as they quietly grew and turned into actual, living creatures suddenly made the whole thing that much more real. Dib couldn’t help but wonder which one would get each of the names Zim had already picked out, and who they’d turn out to be.

Lard Nar cleared his throat politely. “So … in order to figure out the PAK situation, I need to crunch some data, still. I’ll have to disentangle which parts of Dib are human and which are Irken. I’m assuming _some_ human DNA was passed along to the smeets, but whether or not that means they’ll be completely at home on Earth is a different issue.”

Zim and Dib exchanged a nervous look. 

“Oh, don’t look so worried. We’ll get there in the next few days,” Lard Nar assured them. “Anyhow … you can get back to your own research. Just be back by sunset for dinner.”

* * *

_II._

The rest of their first day on Vort passed fairly quickly, considering it was more than double a standard Earth day and Dib felt as though he were pulling an all-nighter for a portion of it. After dinner, once the artificial sun had finally sunk behind the wholly organic horizon, they wandered out past the edge of the university city to look for meteorites in the LCD sky. Though Dib had a sneaking suspicion that Zim’s insistence was mostly due to wanting to fuck without Lard Nar judging them over breakfast the next day.

“It’s been weird, reading about my people through the eyes of another culture,” Zim said as they cuddled under the blanket. The temperature had dropped just enough to be chilly without one. “But it’s made me realize that, if I were born two thousand years ago, I would be perfectly normal. Even if I had you as a mate … that happened fairly often, Irkens taking non-Irken mates. I would have a whole family group to help raise the smeets …” Zim trailed off, looking wistful.

Dib cuddled against him, gently stroking his antennae. In the past day, the need to be close had been overwhelming and Dib felt himself slipping mentally into the honeymoon phase they’d never gotten, seeing as their first year together had been so fraught. The feeling was ramped to eleven when Zim was babbling about their eventual children.

“How many other Irkens like you do you think there are?” Dib asked.

“It happens more than never,” Zim said softly, shrugging slightly. “PAKs are as complex as a biological brain, so it’s not as though Defective smeets are just discarded. I was sent for electrical ‘therapy’ to reboot regions of my PAK that seemed to be misfiring. I wasn’t the only one in the ward any of the times I was sent there. There were other smeets that I know for a fact went on to be successful adults. Last I heard, Skoodge had managed to make a name for himself. Even though he’s just slightly taller than I am. Sometimes they send smeets for more intense Debugging. They tried that with me, but I fried pretty much every machine they hooked me up to … because I’m … well, the words they used were ‘insane’, ‘broken’, d-def …”

Unable to make himself say it, Zim curled in on himself, antennae pressed against his neck. 

“Hey, no moping, my little bug,” Dib murmured, kissing him. “I don’t know why you keep giving that any sort of merit.”

“Because back at my existence evaluation, that’s what they decided,” Zim said darkly.

“A bunch of psychotic, genocidal maniacs declared you insane, Zim,” Dib said, stroking his mate’s antennae. “‘Whole’ by their metric would be a Zim with no capacity to love, no capacity to care about people and things, and you certainly wouldn’t be starting a family with me right now.”

Zim melted into Dib’s arms, hoping he would keep going. Sometimes, what Zim needed was for the person he loved most in the world to talk him up a little.

“In a universe next door to this one, there’s a Zim whose PAK uploaded exactly as the Irken Empire expected it to, and that Zim goes on to … I dunno. Conquer Vort, or something. Which Zim do you want to be?”

“The one who gets you,” Zim said into Dib’s hoodie.

“Good,” Dib said with a kiss. “Because that’s the Zim I want, too.”

Zim tipped his head up, kissing Dib’s neck in return and tossing a leg over his hip. Even though Zim was shorter, his thighs were now thicker around than Dib’s by a good measure. It took less than a second before he was humping Dib’s leg in earnest, chirping softly as he pressed his body close and fumbled under Dib’s clothes.

“We’re out in the middle of the open, Zim …” Dib murmured. He knew he wouldn’t be able to resist if Zim was persistent, though. 

“That’s never stopped us before,” Zim replied, reaching into Dib’s pants. He ran a finger along the underside of Dib’s already-erect cock, making him squirm.

“ _Ah_! Okay, okay, _fine_. But only if I get to go down on you,” Dib conceded. If that could really be called a concession of any sort.

“Only if you agree to finish inside me,” Zim whispered in his ear, voice sultry.

“We’ve got a deal.” Dib pulled off his hoodie and rolled it up, handing it to Zim. “Take that and my jeans to put under your back,” he said as he quickly pulled his pants off and rolled them up as well.

Zim pulled his leggings off in a hurry and got himself situated as Dib laid down beside him, kissing up his neck and slipping two fingers inside him. He looked down, his belly partially obscuring what Dib’s hand was up to. 

“Fuck, I’m getting really chubby,” he mumbled, toes curling as Dib pleasured him.

“I love it,” Dib said with a kiss, before positioning himself between Zim’s thighs, laying on his stomach and propped up on his elbows. “You were gorgeous before, too, but there’s just something so hot about you with thighs I could just drown in …” He lifted Zim’s legs over his shoulders, held his hips up, and ran his tongue along Zim’s entrance. “Oh my god, I swear you taste better every time.” He whimpered as he pressed his lips against Zim’s skin, tongue lapping, breathing heavy. 

What was it about Zim that made his head feel so fuzzy, like he was in a dream? He desperately _needed_ Zim more and more each time he went down on him, as if they were falling deeper in love with every lick, every swallow. It was like an addiction. Dib wasn’t even sure what would happen if they were separated at this point. He’d probably kill himself, he decided. That’s undoubtedly what Zim would do. What was the point of even being alive, if he couldn’t be with his mate?

Speaking of mating … Dib hoped that they’d have ample free time while they were here to lose themselves in each other’s bodies. He wanted nothing more than to make love to Zim — hot, loud, sticky, repeated love — in every way possible, in every spare moment. To hold Zim’s body back against him, whispering sweetly while he poured himself out between Zim’s legs. To put his head between Zim’s thighs and lick him clean before tongue fucking him to completion. To kiss him afterwards, sharing how good he tasted. 

“Will you do this to my cock when it’s back?” Zim chirped out suddenly, eyes closed and antennae trembling. “Let me put it in your mouth? Maybe let me cum in your mouth, even …” He moaned at the thought.

Dib kissed just above Zim’s pussy, where his cock lay dormant but no less sensitive. “Zim, I’m going to beg you to let me suck your cock and if you don’t cum in my mouth, I’ll consider myself a failure at fellatio.” Dib rolled his hips against the ground slightly, his cock so hard that anything rubbing against it felt indescribably good. He put a thumb right where he had kissed, and rubbed vigorously.

In no time, he had Zim shrieking in pleasure, grabbing as his hair and fucking Dib’s mouth as he came. Before Zim could even catch his breath, Dib was inside him, passionately kissing him and running his fingers up and down his antennae. There was less chatter than Zim was used to, but he was too blissed out to miss it. At this point, Dib knew what felt good to Zim — as evidenced by the fact that he held still when Zim wrapped his thighs around him and frantically pleasured himself against Dib’s body — and they were both equally desperate to get the other off.

Dib gave a breathy, whispered warning that he was about to come and Zim chirped beneath him in response. He pressed his lips to Zim’s, then slid his tongue inside and kissed him deep as he finished. Zim gave a handful of frantic upwards thrusts before trembling and whimpering into Dib’s open mouth. Dib kissed him on the lips before starting to pull back but Zim hooked his ankles under Dib’s ass.

“Noooo, Dib! Don’t pull out yet …” he whined.

“But I have to clean you up so you’re not dripping all the way home,” Dib said as he slid down to put his face between Zim’s legs.

“You really _don’t,”_ Zim insisted. But Dib was already holding Zim’s hips in the air.

He licked from Zim’s ass to his pussy, before diving in and lapping up everything inside of him. Zim squirmed, but mostly because he was still sensitive post-orgasm and Dib was _really_ going at it, tongue in as deep as it would go.

“You’re so gross,” Zim complained, panting hard, a deep blush spreading straight down to his neck. “I don’t think anyone likes the taste of their own jizz more than you do.” He crossed his legs behind Dib’s head and reached down to run his fingers through Dib’s hair. “It’s one thing when you’re trying to get a taste of me … but I swear half the time when you cream me, it’s just so you can … can lick everything back out. And you always insist on shoving your tongue into my mouth and … Ah!” He curled upwards and Dib could feel the trembling of his walls against his tongue like a heartbeat. Zim whimpered and his legs went slack, uncrossing from behind Dib’s neck. Dib gently set his trembling body back down on the blanket with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Did you just get yourself off with your own dirty talk?” Dib asked, licking his lips. 

“Shut up …” Zim mumbled, pulling his hood up and over his face.

“Come here, you dumb bug,” Dib said, laying down on his back beside Zim and pulling him close. “There’s supposed to be a meteor shower tonight. Get cozy and let’s see if we can catch any of them.”

Zim snuggled into his shoulder, still breathing hard, one hand up Dib’s shirt and resting on his heart. He spread his fingers out, palm pressing against Dib’s ribcage and picking up on every beat. Curious, he pressed his other hand to his own. Just as he had hoped, their heartbeats were completely in phase. It was a thing he knew could happen between lovers. He’d just never bothered to check if it was something that could even happen between species. But now that he knew, it just made Dib feel more like _his_ human. Even their biological systems were marching in lockstep with each other. 

An abrupt, emotional hiccup interrupted his train of thought and he was surprised to find himself suddenly tearful. He quickly wiped his face on his hoodie, but Dib had already taken notice.

Dib hugged him, looking worried. “What’s wrong?”

“I dunno … everything is just so overwhelming and beautiful and terrifying …!” Zim sobbed.

“It’s okay … I’ve got you,” Dib murmured. “You’re going to be alright.”

“Am I??” Zim wailed mourfully. “I have so many feelings and they hit me like a Massive-class ship out of the blue every fucking time!” He ducked his head and shakily stroked his own antennae, which Dib took that as a sign to give them a little love. “Is this going to be a constant thing??” Zim whimpered. 

“I hope not, but I’ll be here to hold you if it is,” Dib said softly.

“Pregnancy is _awful_ ,” Zim moaned. “First the nausea and now mood swings … plus, my clothes don’t fit right and my ankles are swelling and my boots hurt my feet …”

“Well, if you’ll let me pick out some more appropriate clothes for you, I’d love to dress you up all cute,” Dib said, kissing Zim’s cheek.

“I don’t feel cute … I feel like a bloated whale …” Zim whined. He rested his head dejectedly against his mate. 

Dib held Zim tightly, then rolled onto his back, hefting Zim up on top of him. “Could I do this if you were?” he asked.

“I guess not,” Zim mumbled, snuggling under his chin. His breath still stuttered in his throat, but he seemed to be settling down a bit.

Dib ran his fingers down the length of Zim’s antennae, making him purr softly. Zim gradually relaxed until his breathing was soft and even, and Dib was left alone to stare up at an unfamiliar sky, filled with different stars in new configurations. It was strange to think he wasn’t seeing the real sky, but rather watching a livestream of the planet’s telescopes on what was essentially a huge TV screen. He almost wanted to stay on Vort forever. Here, he had access to information the likes of which Earth wouldn’t see for decades, maybe even hundreds of years. Zim could safely go about his daily life without his disguise. The Vortians seemed to be on top of their security so he was unconcerned about the Irken Empire. Maybe Dib could even help them defeat the Armada once and for all. That would be a so much sweeter victory than defeating Zim ever would have been.

He thought about Gaz and his father. Would he miss either of them? Would either of them miss him? He could pretty quickly rule out his father missing him much at all, considering that Dib had been kicked out. Thinking back to the events that transpired made his stomach turn, and not just because of his decision to down several household cleaners. The whole attempt on his life had been — in hindsight — a desperate cry for help on a frequency that only Zim was on.

He supposed that he’d kind of hoped that Zim — paranoid, possessive, and rabidly over-protective Zim — would sense something was amiss and save him. And if he didn’t? Well, then Dib truly had nothing left to live for. But he woke up, aching and exhausted, with Zim by his side. Dib had been terrified that Zim was going to yell at him, punish him for his stupid mistake. But Zim had gently explained everything, given him that silly little plushie, then insisted on going back to fix the damage to Dib’s (former) house. Abruptly, Dib was left with nothing more than a bottle of coconut water, a plate of saltines, and his thoughts.

It wasn’t until the following day that Zim admitted he had run into Dib’s father when he went back. He had looked so small, sitting on the edge of the bed and explaining that Professor Membrane had asked for his son back, and Zim had told him to promptly get fucked. Zim had clearly expected to be chewed out, but all Dib could do was hug him. At least someone cared enough to stand up for him. If you didn’t have someone in your life who was willing to literally fight your parents for you, Dib figured, what even was the point? 

All of his family troubles only served as more of a reason to just stay put on Vort. They could go fetch GIR and the base, but Earth and his family … he wouldn’t even need to say goodbye.

A shooting star suddenly streamed across the sky and Dib closed his eyes. All he wanted was for his little family to be safe, wherever they ended up. He wanted his mate to be happy, for their relationship to survive all of this unscathed. He wanted the pregnancy to be a little bit easier on Zim.

He opened his eyes. That was probably a bit much for one star.

A chilly wind blew across the hill, and Dib gently nudged the sleeping Irken awake.

“Let’s get going. I want to sleep in an actual bed, and I owe you a back rub,” Dib said softly.

“Mmm … lemme sleep, Dib …” Zim said, not sounding terribly awake.

Dib gently rolled Zim to the ground, then pulled his clothes back on. He wasn’t about to try and dress a half-asleep Zim, so he wrapped his mate in the blanket, tossed Zim’s clothes in his bag, and carried him back to their temporary home. He desperately hoped that Lard Nar wouldn’t be awake. Somehow, parading Zim around in a compromising position seemed like a terrible idea.

Luckily, he found the apartment entirely dark. He crept through the hallway to their bedroom, and gently deposited a very zonked-out Zim into bed. He stripped down to his boxers and cuddled up beside him, hand under his shirt to massage his back. Zim snuggled closer and let out a soft, happy purr, surprising Dib when he gently kissed up Dib’s neck.

“Were you just pretending to sleep so I’d carry you home?” Dib asked with a smirk.

Zim hid his face in his hoodie. “No …”

“Oh, really?”

“Okay, _yes_. But only because my feet hurt and my back aches and walking doesn’t feel good,” Zim whined.

“Then just ask me to carry you,” Dib said, helping him pull off his hoodie.

“Huh?”

“You can just ask me for the things you need. You don’t have to manipulate me into it.”

Zim let Dib resume rubbing his back for a moment, quietly mulling things over.

“And what if you don’t _want_ to?” Zim asked softly.

“I want to make you happy, Zim. If I’m legitimately too exhausted, I’ll tell you. But if you want to be carried home or whatever … I want to do it. I’m ridiculously in love with you.”

It still always shocked Zim to hear exactly how in love with him Dib was. It took a good few minutes for this information to percolate.

“Oh, Dib … I just remembered ...” he said as an abrupt realization hit him. He’d almost forgotten, what with the massive change in time zones.

“Mhm?” Dib said, sounding just a little bit more tired than he had a second ago.

“Merry Christmas,” Zim said with a kiss. “I think this might be our best one yet.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, you silly bug.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Oh yeah. I wrote part of this back in like ... fucking December or some shit @_@;;;; Happy Christmas?
> 
> \- Hormones are bullshit. I didn't cry once despite a string or tragedies in the past week, but then I go out to buy eggs and _oh my gawd you guys they just ... those chickens have a whole 108sq ft to themselves!!! They get to live outside!!_ (ಥ﹏ಥ)
> 
> \- I've hit peak unoriginality. The next four chapters or so are titled after song lyrics. [This one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SrroZVGvgf0) is from another FPF song.


	9. Between Two Points

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim continues his research while Dib gets in touch with his inner child. Zim is still suspicious of Lard Nar's intentions. Lard Nar intends to make the pair attend a fancy dinner in Zim's honor. There is more about Irkens than you ever wanted to know in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I really feel like the story started to get away from me a little. I never meant for the Vort arc to be so goddamned LONG, but it was an excellent opportunity for character exploration and world-building and I just got really into it.

We could take a Holiday   
in the month of May  
Run free and play   
in fields of flowers  
Pass the hours   
making love   
is how we'll pray

\- [The Orion Experience, _Cult of Dionysus_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ZcqaolcjUI)

* * *

_I._

The days on Vort passed with an easy sort of rhythm between research, being researched, enjoying the outdoors — which was, surprisingly, not _always_ code for “fucking any and every way possible” — sightseeing, and Lard Nar doing his best to immerse the two in the local cuisine. As nice as the campus and adjacent preserve was, they had been trying to get out a bit more, and today Dib had coerced Zim into going to the beach. Even though Zim was curled up with his tablet on a round papasan-type chair under an umbrella, dry and sheltered from the incessant radiation of Vort’s faux-sun, he was already starting to regret indulging his human. 

While he was engrossed in a paper on smeet development, Dib came sprinting out of the surf and skidded to a stop in the sand in front of him, spraying it everywhere.

“Gah!! What the hell, Dib??” Zim shrieked, shooting up to shake tiny grains of opalescent sand from his clothes. He was wearing what was ostensibly a long purple dress that came down to almost his ankles. It was about as involved in the local culture as anyone was going to get him, aside from the food (which, even he had to admit, wasn’t half bad). Dib, on the other hand, was wearing absolutely nothing.

Zim grabbed a towel off the chair and handed it to his human. “Would you _please_ put this on when you’re out of the water? You can’t just be running around naked like that …”

Dib huffed and took it before sitting down on the rattan mat. “There’s no laws against it,” he complained, pulling his goggles off. “And you should really get out there!! There are these manta ray things except they’re absolutely _massive!_ And I saw one of the flying lizards jump right in and watched it swim around under there for a solid ten minutes!”

Zim gave him an odd look. His human was sitting there, bright pink scars and all, and displaying the least amount of care Zim had ever witnessed over the course of the near-decade Zim had known him. It was almost unsettling.

“What’s that look for?” Dib asked. “I know you don’t really do water but … come on!!”

Zim reached down and brushed Dib’s sodden hair out of his face. “Who is _this_ Dib, and why am I just now meeting him?” he asked humorously, in an attempt to hide his bewilderment. “It’s an ordeal to get you to go out in shorts back home.”

Dib scooped up some of the opalescent sand and let it filter through his fingers. “I’ve finally got an excuse to completely let loose,” he replied softly. “I never really got the typical ‘kid’ experience on earth. Dad never took us on vacations because he was always gone. Gaz and I were left home alone all the time and I had to grow up really fast. Not to mention … _back home_ is filled with people who know me and judge me based on an arbitrary set of rules I’ve never quite figured out.”

“If you’ve figured out Vortians this quickly, please enlighten me,” Zim said with a good-natured eye roll.

“It’s not quite that … it’s more that here, _I’m_ the alien. I’ve got an excuse to be weird.” Dib scooped up another handful of sand and let it filter away until only a few small shells were left, resting in the palm of his hand. “Nobody here knows anything about humans, much less about me. I’m not just some sad, depressed, nerdy thing. For all anyone knows, maybe I got these scars in a cool knife fight. Maybe all humans are this lanky. Maybe my dick is impressive for my species.” He gave Zim a smirk and watched with amusement as his mate rolled his eyes.

“Your dick is fantastic, which is why I don’t want anyone else looking at it.”

“Mm, I think you just don’t like how I’m de-sexualizing my body,” Dib said, letting the towel drop and sashaying back towards the surf.

“That is _definitely_ not it,” Zim insisted.

“This great ass belongs to the world now, Zim!” Dib yelled back, pointing to it with both hands.

“That great ass is going to get one hell of a sunburn!” Zim called out as Dib dove back into the ocean. A moment later, a single middle finger emerged above the waves.

Zim shook his head and turned back to his tablet. Dib would be back soon with a rock or a shell or some terrifying live creature that he’d somehow managed to pick up without being stung, bitten, or pinched. If he wanted to go reclaim his lost childhood, who was Zim to stand in his way?

Besides, Zim had more reading to do. He was finally starting to put together a broader picture of Irk’s history and his people’s evolution.

Early Irkens, as Lard Nar has briefly mentioned, were highly adaptable. They could adjust to nearly any planet, and smeets were born with the necessary adaptations to survive in the environment in which they were born. This seemed to fly in the face of everything he had picked up on earth regarding evolution, until he stumbled across detailing the mechanics. He was very familiar with the concepts of junk DNA (“unactivated” strands of DNA in an organism) and “jumping genes” (sequences of DNA that move about with a genome). It seemed that jumping genes could selectively activate DNA to help Irkens better adapt to a habitat. Something that would undoubtedly come in handy when your species had evolved from being dumb prey animals into a peace-loving society of sentient creatures with no natural defense mechanism.

_Peace-loving Irkens._

Zim had to chuckle at the thought. A few thousand years ago, his ancestors were communally raising smeets, having long conversations about their _feelings_ , and flying to other star systems to become an invasive species. What he wouldn’t give to have been a part of _that._

Somewhere along the line, PAKs were invented to give Irkens a tactical advantage. Most societies would have rolled such dangerous technology out to only the military elite, but given the communal structure of Irken society, they were doled out to everyone. Around here was where Zim had a bit of trouble picking up the threads. Irkens were no longer worth the trouble to kidnap for research and Irk itself had become rather isolationist. The few Irkens who had left during this period seemed to have dodged the genetic modification bullet. Smeets were born and raised normally. There were a handful of papers that seemed to dig into the engineering behind the original PAKs, but every time he or Dib attempted to check them out, they were met with a message that the research was temporarily restricted due to planetary security. Zim made a mental note to ask Lard Nar to override the security clearance. This was, after all, directly pertinent to Zim as someone who had defected from Irk. Lard Nar had no place denying him knowledge of his people and his history, especially considering he’d sooner kill Red and Purple himself than hand over the information he’d gleaned.

From the papers Zim _did_ have access to, it seemed that once Irkens re-emerged on the galactic scene under the newly-founded Empire, they were the Irkens Zim knew; sterile, genetically modified cyborgs with all the kumbaya bred right out of them.

Zim was currently waiting for Lard Nar to sequence the genomes of each of the smeets. He had a running theory that if the terminator gene was inactive in his own DNA, the jumping genes might also function as they had originally. Zim had to admit that, as much as he hated temperature extremes, he’d actually adjusted quite a bit to earth seasons from the time he’d first arrived on earth until now. 

“Look!!”

Zim jumped. He’d been so lost in thought that he didn’t even hear Dib come sprinting across the sand, dick swinging back and forth so quickly that it made Zim grateful that his own bits were all internal.

“Don’t tell me you’ve brought me another angry marine creature,” Zim groaned. After the last thing had spat saltwater all over him, he was reticent to see Dib’s latest catch.

“Nope! I think you’re gonna like this one …” Dib held out a large, blobby metallic rock and Zim took it from him.

“Huh. Meteorite?” Zim asked, looking it over. 

“Looks like it! Probably not the same one we saw last night,” Dib said with a smirk.

“Nah, this one vaporized a little bit of ocean when it landed.” Zim looked up and smiled at the excited expression on Dib’s face. “You’re cute when you’re stoked about something. It’s making me almost sad that we have to leave for lunch,” he said, leaning down to kiss Dib’s cheek. 

Dib ducked his head slightly. “Sorry. I guess I kind of let my inner child out.”

“Don’t apologize for that. Your inner child needs to be let out more often,” Zim said. “It’s nice to watch you actually enjoying yourself for once.”

They packed up and made the trek back to Lard Nar’s residence for lunch. By the time they arrived, Dib was dry and most of the sand had finally come off.

“How was the beach?” their host called from the kitchen.

“Amazing,” Dib gushed. “Whoever you put in charge of ecology is outdoing themselves. I’ll probably be out there a few more times before we have to leave.”

He was genuinely sad at the thought of having to finally say goodbye to Vort. Their research was wrapping up, and it seemed Lard Nar’s was as well. They’d be getting tangible conclusions in the next couple days, and then it would be back to earth. Back to the familiar world he could never seem to escape, no matter how far they traveled. Dib didn’t even want to think about how they were going to get through the remainder of Zim’s pregnancy, the egg incubation period, and then raising kids without also raising suspicions. It was almost a little amusing, the amount of time he had invested in proving Zim was an alien to a planet that just wasn’t having it, versus the time and energy he was now expending in an attempt to keep Zim as far away from a lab as possible.

As they sat down for lunch, Zim had barely sat down before Lard Nar was leaning over the table, excitement sparkling in his eyes.

“So, Zim,” he said, causing the Irken to perk up. “You’ve been wondering what caused this conception in the first place, right?”

Zim nodded, swallowing a mouthful of food. “Especially since it coincided with me no longer finding the idea of copulating absolutely disgusting,” he replied. “That seems statistically relevant, in any case.”

Dib went red and focused on shoveling his food into his face with his chopsticks. Talking openly about their sexual relationship with Lard Nar still made him want to die a little. They could make it as clinical as possible and it wouldn’t have made it one iota less mortifying.

“I’ve had a few theories about this,” Lard Nar said excitedly as Dib sunk down into his chair. “There was a long-running theory that male Irkens produced a pheromone that induced heat in the females,” Lard Nar explained. “But that doesn’t seem to be the case. At any rate, unless pheromones are similar among various species, this doesn’t account for why Irkens are capable of inter-species mating. So, I took another look at your DNA and I found out something that really _shouldn’t_ have shocked me as much as it did.”

Lard Nar paused for dramatic effect as Zim looked at him expectantly.

“Which would be ..?” Zim queried.

“How old are you, Zim?” Lard Nar asked.

Zim looked taken aback. “Uh … let’s see here … eighty-something?” he ventured. “Someone should double check my math, but I think that’s the correct number in Irken years.”

“That’s what I thought,” Lard Nar said with a nod. 

“What’s that in earth years?” Dib asked, suddenly perking up.

“Eh … like forty, give or take.”

“Wait. Don’t your people live to be thousands of years old?” Dib asked skeptically.

“Yes. And?”

“I mean … that makes you _really_ young, doesn’t it? In the grand scheme of things?” Dib asked, looking nervous.

“I’m clearly not a smeet, Dib,” Zim huffed. “And I haven’t been for a very long time. What are you so worried about?”

“He's right, Dib,“ Lard Nar chimed in. “Looking at your telomeres, you’re actually around the same age. Back to the point though, Zim; you’re a lot younger than most Irkens would be by the time they graduated the academy.”

He gave Zim a pointed look, which Zim failed to interpret.

“Yeah, they made fun of me for being the youngest _and_ smallest during Invader training. Thanks for the reminder,” Zim grumbled. 

“Okay, let me just give it to you straight,” Lard Nar said impatiently. “The fact that you’re so young means you never hit sexual maturity on Irk. You hit it while you were on Earth. Which would explain the lack of attraction to anyone prior to that.”

Dib still looked mightily concerned. His brain had flashed back to the summer night before college when Dib had ultimately divested Zim of his pants. That memory was already horrifying enough without the consideration that Zim was younger than he’d thought.

“You look like you’re about to be sick,” Zim remarked nervously, scooting to the other side of his chair.

“All those times I tried to convince you to have sex with me,” Dib stammered out, horrified. “I thought you were just being a prude. Or melodramatic.”

“Is this a cultural thing?” Lard Nar asked, thoroughly confused.

“I think he’s having a mental breakdown because humans reach sexual maturity comparatively young. Somewhere in the area of ten to sixteen earth years,” Zim explained. He patted Dib’s back from a safe distance. “It’s not the same thing, Dib. Humans mature sexually before their brains are even done developing or all their bones have properly calcified. Irkens are the opposite. Plus, can you imagine the implications of a species that lives hundreds of years and can reproduce in ten? The population growth wouldn’t be sustainable.”

Dib gave him a nervous look.

“If you want to look at the telomeres yourself, I’d be happy to show you,” Lard Nar said, attempting to be diplomatic.

“Yeah, that would honestly make me feel a lot better,” Dib said, sounding relieved. He took a moment to get a grip on his nerves, then fixed Zim with a somewhat accusatory look. “All this time I’ve been thinking that you were so much older than me, like _at least_ a hundred in Earth years, and you just _let me_?” he asked, exasperated.

“Oh, come on. I have to have a little fun,” Zim said with a smirk.

“Jerk,” Dib mumbled, but he looked a lot more at ease than he had just a short while ago.

“What’s the status of the smeet DNA?” Zim asked Lard Nar, tossing his legs up on Dib as if he were a footrest.

“Close to being complete,” Lard Nar replied. “At the moment, it’s looking like they’ll have the ability to survive without PAKs, but a lot of their internal systems are going to be weak. A lot of your DNA is similar to what you would have seen centuries ago, in that the smeets will be adaptable, and Dib’s human DNA helps in terms of their compatibility with Earth’s environment, but you’re still heavily genetically modified and that’s going to be a factor in your offspring.”

“So, what's the plan?” Zim asked, looking concerned. 

“Don’t worry. I already promised we’d help recreate a first generation PAK in the case of this exact scenario,” Lard Nar replied.

“Is there any good reason I can’t be involved in this?” Zim asked, sounding a touch irritable. “Irk had PAK technicians that hyper-specialized and had top-secret clearance so we didn’t go fucking around and changing things without authorization. What’s the point of keeping this from me? And don’t try to tell me you’re not. All the research I’ve tracked down that seems useful is blocked due to ‘planetary security’,” Zim said with heavy air quotes and a slight sardonic lisp. 

“That would be because we spent a number of solar cycles under the thumb of the Irken Empire, Zim,” Lard Nar said pointedly.

“But … it’s _my people_ and _my history_ ,” Zim said, suddenly intense. “The history and research in your archives is _only possible_ because of defectors and anomalies like me. I’m losing my history and … I want it back.”

Zim’s expression was pained, his antennae pressed against the back of his head.

“I understand that, Zim,” Lard Nar said softly, “but we’re basically at war with your civilization right now. What we know about Irkens … some of it has to stay under wraps. As soon as all this is over, I will personally deliver you the complete archival collection that details everything ever recorded about your people.”

“And when will _that be,_ exactly?” Zim asked acidly. “Nobody has come close to stopping them. I’m arguably the worst thing that ever happened to Irk, and yet the Tallest are still conquering every inhabited planet in their path! Even if I live to my full life expectancy, you’ll probably be _dead_ and your planet will still be fighting an unwinnable war.” He leaned over the table, eyes narrowed. “Or, more likely, you’ll be _cowering_ in your stupidly outdated, ancient buildings as your planet falls to the Empire and your civilizations crumbles under an artificial sky.” He stood up abruptly, shoving his chair back, and walked briskly towards the hall. “Some life!” he shot sarcastically over his shoulder, leaving Dib staring, wide-eyed, bewildered, and horrifically embarrassed on Zim’s behalf.

“I am _so_ sorry,” Dib squeaked out. “He’s just … hormonal, I’m sure. You know … how it is with … Ugh, who am I kidding?” Dib sighed, slumping back. “ _I_ don’t even know how it is with pregnant Irkens. I’ve been reading about brooding and raising smeets and the spectrum of Irken sexual phenotypes and I feel like my head is going to explode. It doesn’t help that he keeps having these crazy mood swings and I just … _cannot keep up_.” Dib glanced over to see Lard Nar regarding him with sympathy in his eyes. “Sorry … I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“It can’t be easy, having so many unknown variables,” Lard Nar replied. “Especially given that you’re from a pre-contact planet.”

“Yeah, don’t even get me started on how the fuck we’re going to explain any of this to anyone back on earth,” Dib sighed, pushing the last few bits of dinner around his plate. “I’m going to go check on him, if that’s alright.”

“Of course it’s alright,” Lard Nar assured him. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

“Thanks,” Dib said as he stood up and walked briskly out of the room. He almost walked right into the bedroom, but decided to knock first. An agitated Zim had a tendency to throw things and _that_ certainly wasn’t going to help anyone.

“It’s Dib … can I come in?”

He heard Zim shout something indecipherable into his pillow and he cracked the door open.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” he asked tentatively.

Zim rolled over and looked down at him irritably. “Yeah, sure, fine. As long as you’re already coming in anyway,” he grumbled as Dib slipped inside and made his way up. He rolled to face away as Dib reached the top of the stairs.

Dib said nothing, just stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers and snuggled behind Zim, head on his shoulder.

“You better not be angling for sex right now,” Zim said irritably. “I’m not in the mood.”

“I just wanted to be comfy while I cuddle you,” Dib replied, kissing his cheek.

“Well … good. Because I don’t want to talk, so you might be waiting a while,” Zim said, losing his edge.

“That’s fine.” Dib put a hand on Zim’s stomach and pressed close behind him. He was happy to just breathe in Zim’s scent and give him gentle belly rubs in the meantime. Just being close quieted some of the near-constant noise in his brain and he hoped it might do the same for Zim.

It was strange, he thought, as his fingers brushed Zim’s tummy, that they’d have eggs to take care of in about a month. Their kids would ostensibly be out in the world, but it would still be another long month before they finally met them. While they waited for that, the eggs had to be kept warm. Exactly Irken body temperature, in fact. And, if Zim still had millennia-worth of Irken parenting programmed into his DNA, that meant he’d likely insist on nesting with them. He wondered if that meant that he’d have to sleep elsewhere. Would Zim kick him out of their bed? Would Zim even be leaving their bed for the month following the eggs actually being laid? How would they take the eggs with them anywhere? How—

Dib looked down to see tears flowing down Zim’s face.

“Are you going to be okay?” Dib asked gently.

“Dunno,” Zim mumbled. “Somehow, knowing that Irk has all this history and that there was a place for someone like _me_ in it … it makes things _worse_. Before, everything I knew about pre-PAK Irk was so vague that it _felt_ distant. They were just stories. But now … it’s like I’m mourning for a reality that I missed by generations.”

Dib didn’t know what to say, so he gently stroked Zim’s antennae and cuddled him close.

“Maybe if I knew _how_ we lost everything, how Irkens became soulless drones for the Control Brains, I could process some of this. But I don’t. So I can’t. And I also can’t ever tell the smeets about this while Irk still exists as it does. What if they want to go find ‘their people’?? How do I explain that I was _banished?_ That I was stripped of my honor and shipped off to Earth because the rest of Irk is populated with people who lack basic emotions??” He sighed and closed his eyes. “The Vortians are never going to win. I just have to make my peace with never knowing the missing parts of my own fucking history, and with the fact that the smeets can _never_ knew where they came from. We’ll just say I was left on earth and grew up here. I’ll never even speak a single word of Irken ever again. That’ll be … it’s … f-fine …”

He burst into tears and rolled to hide his face in Dib’s shirt.

“It’s not fine!” he wailed, muffled against Dib’s chest. “I know they suck, Dib. Don’t try to tell me. I know. I know!! But it’s not their fault and I … I want to be proud of where I came from. Earth might be my home now, but despite what the Vortians keep telling me, I’m _Irken_.”

Zim held fistfuls of Dib’s shirt while he choked back sobs, trying to level out his breathing and calm himself down. 

“Is there anything I can do?” Dib asked gently. He knew there very likely wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it, so he was surprised when Zim suddenly quieted and his antennae perked up. He mentally prepared himself for some emotional whiplash, courtesy of Zim’s ever-changing hormonal state.

“Yeah … yeah, actually there is,” Zim said suddenly, looking up. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, still hiccuping slightly. “Tomorrow night is that stupid dinner at the university that Lard Nar wants us to attend, right?”

“I mean, I dunno if I would call it _stupid_ , exactly, but yeah.”

“If it’s like any other special occasion dinner, people are going to be absolutely trashed,” Zim continued. “And we’re leaving the day after. So it’s the perfect time to sneak into the library and try to … _liberate_ the information Lard Nar is keeping from me.”

Dib’s face fell.

“It’s _my people’s history_ , Dib,” Zim said intensely before Dib could argue. “It belongs to me! Plus, it would make me feel better,” he added, lip trembling as if he were about to launch into another round of crying.

“Zim …”

“All you have to do is keep watch,” Zim insisted. “I’ll do the hard part. It’ll be fine. I _promise_.”

Dib held his gaze for a moment, pretending to mull things over. In reality, he knew there was no stopping Zim once he’d set his mind on something. And really, his logic wasn’t faulty. He _did_ deserve to know what had happened to his people and Dib didn’t disagree.

“Okay, fine,” Dib finally sighed. “If it’ll make you feel better.”

Zim snuggled close again, purring slightly as Dib played absently with the ends of his antennae. “It would. Thank you.” He nuzzled Dib’s neck and tossed a leg over his hip. “Mm, and you know what else would make me feel better?” he murmured, pressing in close and grinding against Dib’s leg.

“Alright, alright.”

“The answer is ‘you holding me down and fucking me absolutely senseless’, by the way,” he purred in Dib’s ear.

“Yeah, I got that, thanks. Someone sure changed their mind about sex rather quickly …” Dib grumbled.

“I’m pregnant. I’m entitled to my emotions, Dib.”

“You’re about to be entitled to a maximum of two every ten minutes.”

“Are you going to help me out or not?” Zim asked as he shimmied out of his clothes.

“Give me a second! All that crying killed my boner …”

“Fine. Try to catch up and I’ll just be over here, fingering myself …”

“... Never mind. I stand corrected.”

“Oh, thank Irk! I thought I was going to actually have to work for it.”

* * *

_II._

“You two sure are up early,” Lard Nar remarked as Zim and Dib trotted into the kitchen, fully showered and not dressed in pajamas for once. “Decided you were tired of breakfast being room-temperature by the time you got here?”

“It’s our last full day,” Zim reminded him as they sat down at the table. “Lots to do, lots to see, lots to prepare for.”

Dib knew that Zim was genuinely dreading tonight’s dinner, and he found it _almost_ funny, since a slightly younger Zim would have been over the moon at the prospect of an entire dinner in his honor. Even if that dinner was predicated on celebrating all of the ways that he’d fucked up.

“Speaking of, I’ll have to get you fitted for robes tonight,” Lard Nar said. “And you should prepare a short speech. We’re doing this mostly to boost morale, after all. It would do everyone some good to hear _The_ Zim say something inspirational.” He shot a look at Zim, who was grimacing, and glanced in Dib’s direction. “Have your mate write it, if you must. I don’t know when you got so humble …”

“Yeah, you know, it’s a funny thing. But finding out everything you believed in was a lie only after your leaders have you kidnapped, put on trial, and attempt to murder you somehow does that to a person,” Zim said mirthlessly.

“Ironically, the fact that you came out the other end of all that still breathing is the exact reason everyone here thinks the world of you,” Lard Nar pointed out, setting a plate in front of him.

Large, fluffy pancakes with red berry eyes and a lopsided smile made out of what appeared to be some sort of pudding grinned back at him. On either side were rolled chocolate antennae. Zim looked over at Dib’s plate, which was piled high with eggs and some sort of meat, thrown together unceremoniously.

“If we were on earth, I’d make you Instagram that,” Dib said through a mouthful of alien bacon.

“That is … really just … uh. _Wow_ ,” Zim said eloquently, staring at the meal.

“Lard Nar is right. I should definitely be the one to write your speech,” Dib said with a smirk. 

“Is everything alright?” Lard Nar asked, looking concerned. 

“It’s _great,_ really,” Zim insisted. “I just wasn’t expecting this sort of send-off. Dib never makes me food that looks like my face.”

Dib opened his mouth to argue, then put a fork full of egg inside it instead, shaking his head. By the time they got back to earth, Zim was going to be absolutely incorrigible.

“I feel like it’s the least I can do to show my appreciation,” Lard Nar replied.

“You did kind of give us the run of the place,” Zim pointed out. “You didn’t have to host us or indulge my requests for information. Even considering the fact that you’re studying me, Dib and I are the main people benefitting from it.”

Zim looked up from his food to see Lard Nar staring out the window, his expression conflicted.

“That’s true. But I also feel bad ...” he said, tone sounding pained in a way that made Zim’s antennae suddenly tremble.

“Uh, about what, exactly?” Zim asked, grabbing Dib’s hand under the table. His guts had suddenly plummeted all the way down to the ground floor as his anxiety spiked and left him reeling.

Here it was. It was finally happening. Everything he’d been worried about. He _knew_ it. He absolutely _knew_ something had off! From day one! He should have just listened to his instincts and gotten the hell off of Vort when he had the —

“About how things went down last night,” his mentor admitted, and Zim just about fainted right off his chair in relief.

“ _Ow_ , Zim,” Dib grumbled, shaking his hand free.

“I wish I could give you everything right now, Zim,” Lard Nar sighed, oblivious to the Irken having a near death experience across the table. “But we’re _so close_ to being able to take on the Empire and actually _win_. The rest of the council would never approve of me handing things over like that. Even if I trust you with every neuron, we can’t take the chance that you might get intercepted on your way back to earth.” He leaned his chin on his hands and gave Zim a wistful look. “I hate that our politics have to affect you to this degree, but in the future, I hope to make it worth your while. I want there to be a day when you can come back and visit. Maybe bring your whole family, even.”

Zim wanted to hide under the table, he was so viscerally embarrassed at his initial reaction. Lard Nar had been housing them, feeding them, and making as many concessions as possible for them. And yet Zim kept expecting the other shoe to drop. He had to ask himself if he had _really_ been treated so poorly in life that he expected every little interaction to end in bodily harm.

After mulling it over for a moment, he had to conclude that _yes_ , those sorts of interactions made up a large portion of his life. _Huh_. He supposed that explained an awful lot.

“It was a wild coincidence that our paths crossed again. It seems a shame to waste it.”

Zim blinked, mind suddenly popping back to the present. It was impossible to hold any of his worries with the genuine way Lard Nar’s was smiling at him.

“Dib’s been pretty keen on coming back here at some point,” Zim replied. “I’d certainly like to bring the smeets out to visit, once it’s safe.”

“For you, Zim, my door is always open.”

After breakfast, they made their way over to the lab. The walk had become so routine that Zim was now moderately certain that he could do it in his sleep.

“We’ll pick up the PAKs, but first I want to show you what the simulation processing the smeet’s DNA has come up with,” Lard Nar said as they trotted inside.

“At this point, we’re not even going to be surprised at what they look like when they hatch,” Dib said as Lard Nar swiped around on his screen.

“Oh. Did you want to be?” the Vortian asked, glancing over.

“I’d take being thoroughly underwhelmed over being underprepared any day,” Zim said quickly. “I’ve never done any of this. I’m going to be shocked at every turn, regardless.”

Four windows popped up on the screen and Zim felt his stomach drop when he noticed several sections highlighted in red.

“What's all that about?” he asked, pointing.

Lard Nar zoomed in and scanned the bolder genetic sequence.

“Looks like … nothing we weren’t expecting, actually,” he replied, and Zim visibly relaxed. “Atmospheric processing is slightly impeded. They’ve got four digits on each limb … split the difference, I suppose … but other than that, they’re all going to look more Irken than human.” He pulled up four models of their future children and Zim broke out in a smile.

All four looked like miniatures of Zim, albeit with extra fingers and toes, and different eye colors.

“Wow. They really don’t look a damn thing like me, do they?” Dib mumbled, trying not to sound jaded.

“They’re the product of more Irken DNA than human,” Lard Nar reminded him. “Even if they weren’t, that seems to be just the way it goes with Irkens. I once met someone who was half Vortian and half Irken and you never would have been able to tell they weren’t full-blooded Irken if it wasn’t for the chin fuzz. Irken DNA is a genetic weed. It crops up all over and has a tendency to overrun everything else.”

“Hmph!” Zim crossed his arms. “That’s a bit insensitive, don’t you think?”

Dib hugged him. “Aw, come on. He doesn’t mean anything by it. And besides, I’m glad they look like you. I was an ugly baby.”

“I can get you the sex of each of them if you want,” Lard Nar said as he scrolled through the rest of the data. “Or rather, a best guess. It’s always a bit up in the air until they actually hatch because all Irkens have a complete set of chromosomes. It’s just down to other factors where on the spectrum they’ll actually present.”

“What other factors?” Zim asked, feeling a bit stupid. Basic genetics felt like something he should be in the know about when it came to his own race, but even all the papers he’d poured over in the past few days hadn’t really touched on this topic.

Lard Nar shrugged. “That’s still a bit of a mystery. It might be environmental. It might be due to some quirk specific to Irkens. All I know is that there is an awful lot of early data on pre-PAK Irkens, but no one was ever able to predict the sex of a smeet with greater than 40% accuracy.”

“It’s the least of my worries, anyhow,” Zim said flippantly. “All that matters is that we’re as prepared as possible to take care of them.”

“Speaking of …” Lard Nar opened a drawer and held up four shrink-wrapped objects, each roughly the size of half a tennis ball. “I had these finished for you early this morning.”

Zim took one and turned it over in his hands, mesmerized.

“We had a long discussion about designs, since classic PAKs were a fair bit boxier, and we absolutely could have streamlined the current design, but we thought you might want them to look like you …”

Zim nodded. “And you promise these don’t have any fucky AI kicking around in them?”

“On my honor. They only take cues from the biological brain,” Lard Nar promised. 

“Good,” Zim replied. “I want the smeets to be their own people.”

“Within reason,” Dib chimed in. “Seeing as we still have to, you know, parent them.”

“You’ll be pleased to hear that we managed to work out some of the more difficult aspects, like PAK-assisted healing and pain killing abilities,” Lard Nar told them. “PAK legs are a staple, of course, along with universal translation. They should be able to revive biological systems in the event that things go really awry, as well.”

“What’s the, uh, install process like on these things?” Zim asked, looking the backs over. “I can operate if needed, but that seems like a bit much to subject brand-new life to. And spinal columns are so fragile …”

“No need,” Lard Nar said hastily. “It works the same way your PAK does. Get it close to the spine and the nano cables will do the rest.”

“And will we need to upgrade every time they have a growth spurt?”

“Nope. Those are all made out of a niobium smart-metal alloy,” Lard Nar said, turning to rifle through his desk drawers.

“Niobium?” Zim said dubiously. “That might be one of the most biocompatible metals out there, but isn’t it a little soft?” He was picturing the smeets taking a tumble down the stairs and their PAKs crunching like tin cans. He shuddered.

Lard Nar pulled a sheet of metal from his desk, set it in his open palm, and attempted to crush it. He managed to crumple the edges before the sheet abruptly bounced back to its original shape, then handed it over to an excited-looking Zim.

“Niobium nanites,” he explained. “They allow the PAK to crumple slightly in the event of a high-impact event, but they’ll always bounce back. They also have the advantage of allowing the PAK to grow with the Irken wearing it.”

Zim handed the metallic square back to Lard Nar, then tipped his head up to look at his mate. “So that’s really it, huh? The smeets are healthy. They have PAKs. I’m reasonably certain we’ve dug up everything we need to know about the rest of the pregnancy and raising them. Which is wild, considering that, a week ago, I didn’t even know they were in there.”

“Do you want one more scan for posterity?” Lard Nar asked.

Zim beamed. “Would you?”

“Sure. You know the drill by now; just grab a gown and hop up on the table. I’d honestly love to know how much they’ve progressed since you first got here,” Lard Nar said as he pulled up the controls on the interface.

“How much could they have possibly changed in the past few days?” Dib asked.

“The period of time from conception to hatching is, what? I believe Zim said one-third of the time it takes your average human from conception to birth?” Lard Nar asked.

“Roughly that, yeah.”

“I’d wager they’ve changed a good deal, then.”

Behind him, Dib heard Zim grumbling, and turned to see him struggling to get up on the exam table.

“Diiiiib … a little help, please,” he whined.

“Are you too fat to get a leg up?” Dib asked, snickering.

“I’ve got eggs in the way, you jerk!” Zim pouted. 

Dib knelt down on one knee in front of him. “Alright, come here …” He took Zim’s hand to help steady him as he climbed up on the table.

“I might not ever lose this weight, Dib,” Zim said as he laid down. “I could have perpetual birthing hips. You might want to get used to this.”

Dib quickly glanced in Lard Nar’s direction to see if he could get away with showing Zim _exactly_ how much he hoped that was the case.

“Don’t you dare,” Lard Nar said the moment their eyes met. “I swear, if we could just switch on the fertility of every Irken soldier in the Empire, the lot of them would be too busy fucking each other to get anything else done.”

“That plan’s not half bad,” Zim remarked. “You should file that one away under ‘possibly’.”

His mentor rolled his eyes dramatically and rolled his chair back behind the monitor.

“Stay still for a second. I’ll be starting the scan … now,” Lard Nar said as the machine above them hummed to life.

Dib took a moment to appreciate just how round Zim had gotten. It was harder to tell in the medical gown that came down to his toes, but his belly had begun to protrude so much that Dib doubted he’d fit into any of his earth clothes when they got back. He’d already procured some Vortian maternity clothes that seemed to be the only thing at the moment that fit correctly. His arms were thicker, his thighs were gloriously huge, and he had some extra chub in his cheeks that definitely hadn’t been there before. Dib used to be able to pick him up and sling him over his shoulder pretty easily, but now Dib would have his work cut out for him. Which, in all honesty, was probably perfectly fine with Zim.

“All done!” Lard Nar called from behind the panel. “Ready to see how they’re coming along?”

Zim slid off the table and scampered over with Dib in tow, skidding to a halt in front of the monitor.

“Holy shit … Dib …”

“Wow, yeah, they’re actually starting to look like something, huh?” Dib said softly as Zim squeezed his hand. He hadn’t expected much, but in the course of a week, the smeets had gone from looking not unlike jelly beans to something actually starting to resemble tiny Irkens.

“Any further along and it would be a bit more trouble to see them,” Lard Nar said. “The shells are still soft for the moment, but they’re going to calcify in the coming weeks.”

Dib took in the tiny, webbed digits and comically huge heads, realizing that their development wasn’t completely dissimilar to earth mammals.

“Biologically … what are Irkens classed as?” Dib asked softly.

“You mean besides a nuisance?” Lard Nar asked with a chuckle.

Zim bristled and Dib pulled him close, opting to let the quip go over his head. “I mean in terms of a hierarchical biological classification scheme … what’s Irken-adjacent?”

“Nothing, really. Irkens are … an anomaly,” Lard Nar said finally. “Their gestation is faster than any intelligent lifeform that gives birth to live young, but longer than most of the egg-laying ones. They lactate. Their sexes are the least clear-cut of any multicellular organism I’ve come across. Their lifespans are outrageously long for a species that originated as prey and they mature sexually much later than most other prey species as well. They utilize jumping genes like nothing I’ve ever seen before and their genetics are somehow still mostly a mystery after all these years.” Lard Nar gave Dib a very curious look, as if trying to gauge how receptive Dib might be to what he was about to say. “One of the universe’s greatest conspiracy theories posits that Irkens were developed in a lab somewhere by one of the earliest technologically advanced societies and turned loose in the wild, where they propagated, evolved, and somehow outlasted their creators.”

Even without the rather intense gaze Lard Nar had fixed him with, Dib was fairly certain he would have felt a shiver go down his spine. The thought of Irkens quietly existing in some forgotten corner of the universe for thousands of years while their creators faded into obscurity, evolving, thriving, advancing even in the face of threats by other civilizations, only to eventually become the galactic menace they were today … It was so strange that it almost made sense.

“If I weren’t just a touch more skeptical,” Lard Nar said, “I’d say the whole thing is more fact than fiction.” He stood up, suddenly looking a lot older than Dib gave him credit for. “Either way, whoever eventually untangles this mess?” He gestured broadly to the cluster of DNA sequences. “Every soul in the galaxy will grow up knowing their name.”

He started towards the door before Dib could properly process that last bit. It wasn’t until Zim tugged at his sleeve that he realized they were waiting on him.

“Dib … Robe-fitting,” Zim coaxed with a grimace that he hoped Lard Nar couldn't see from the hallway. “Come on.”

Dib shook his head to clear it and headed out the door, definitely not thinking about ancient civilizations of Irkens and Galaxy-tier Nobel Prizes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have ALL THE SCIENCE HEADCANONS in this chapter and I'm not sorry! >:3
> 
> Chapter title snagged from [Between Two Points by Glitch Mob](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHFx11tUO1M)


	10. Won't Feel a Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fancy Vortian dinner goes as well as anyone could expect it to. Zim is wildly irresponsible with alcohol. Maybe the Vortians are up to something, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in which I enjoy world-building a little too much.
> 
> Update release schedule is as follows:  
> \- Ch. 11: Loving the Animal - June 19, 2020  
> \- Ch. 12: Broken Satellite - June 21, 2020  
> Yes, that's a day shorter than I've been releasing things so far! There's a reason for that.

_So what if_  
_I told you_  
_They figured out_  
_how to control you_  
_and I know_  
_no one will believe me_  
_but there's a pattern to the_  
_people on the TV_

[\- Ancient Lasers, _Luxury Info_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ZgcrP6qXLs)

* * *

_I._

“It is an honor to be gathered here amongst such a noble collection of scholars and freedom fighters. Although it took a single being to momentarily bring the Empire to a standstill, it would have been meaningless without the bravery and tenacity of your fellow Vortians.”

Dib looked up from his spot on the floor and Zim — who was in the middle of having his robes tailored so he wasn’t constantly tripping over them — cocked his head in confusion.

“That’s _it_?” he asked, sounding a touch disappointed. 

“Well, yeah. I thought it would be good to keep things short so you don’t seem like you’re too far up your own ass,” Dib said defensively.

Zim waved him off, irritating the Vortian hemming his bright purple robes. “Nah. Add some more to it. And who the fuck says —” he pulled a face, “— _hhhhamongst_? Pfft. What century are you from?”

Dib rolled his eyes and muttered a barely audible “ _diva_ ” under his breath. He quickly typed up some revisions and additions, then shoved his phone in Zim’s face. “Here. Read it yourself.”

Zim silently mouthed the words on the screen, replete with facial expressions, while Dib fidgeted impatiently.

“Hmm … no more ‘amongst’,” Zim said, nodding. “There’s a point in your favor right there … _‘Knowledge is power’_ sounds familiar … I know you didn’t come up with that on your own.”

“France is bacon,” Dib replied on reflex as Zim gave him a puzzled look. “Uh. It’s a quote by Sir Fancis Bacon. But you probably remember it from when they used to make us watch those old Schoolhouse Rock videos.”

“Eh, it sounds good in Vortian. Keep it,” Zim replied, moving on to the rest of the speech.

Dib watched as Zim’s eyes grew wide, then slightly misty. He looked up, concern wrinkling his brow.

“Is it a good idea to tell them about the smeets?” he whispered.

Dib shrugged helplessly. “I don’t think it can hurt. I think the idea of us being able to safely bring the smeets back here one day is powerful, in a way. We risked an awful lot to come out here, and you’re in genuine danger every day that the Empire is still in existence. I don’t like thinking about it _at all_ , but it’s the truth,” Dib said softly, reaching for his hand. “If it were me, I’d fight just a little bit harder, knowing that a family was on the line.”

Zim looked conflicted as he handed Dib his phone back. “What if it somehow gets back to the Tallest?” he asked nervously.

“So what if it does? The hell are they gonna do about it?” Dib replied darkly. If he ever met Zim's former leaders, he was going to be sure to push them into the world's largest bug zapper.

“Hurt you … possibly hurt the smeets. You’re all liabilities,” Zim said, his expression pained.

Dib cast him a bewildered look. “But _why_??”

“You’ve said it yourself; they’re a bunch of genocidal maniacs. They _really_ don’t appreciate the fact that I’m responsible for killing the most Irkens in the history of … anything ever. I’m a black mark on the collective. They banished me in the cold recesses of space and instead of dying, like I was supposed to, I went rogue, helped cripple the Empire to the point that they lost their most valuable outpost, fucked outside of my species, and created Irkens who don’t even know what the Empire _is_ ,” Zim finished breathlessly. “I don’t know how to begin to make you understand how outlandishly dangerous all of that is. I’ve gone off-book. I’m … proprietary software that’s run off and done Irk-knows-what on my own.”

“And I think that’s very brave and sexy of you,” Dib replied simply.

Zim relaxed a bit. “Alright. Fine. If you think it’ll inspire someone to keep the Empire off our tails … leave it in.”

They were interrupted by the door at the other end of the room opening up. Lard Nar bustled in with two other Vortians in tow and Dib’s jaw dropped as he attempted to take in everything that was going on with Lard Nar's choice of wardrobe.

The gold and white robes were much the same as Zim and Dib’s upscale Vortian scientist robes, but the rest of his getup made him look something like a Himalayan yak. His horns had been wrapped in multicolor yarn and a string of tassels ran between them. Much to Dib’s surprise, he had a jeweled ring in his nose with delicate chains on either side that connected back up to a rather elaborate headpiece. It didn’t escape Dib’s notice that the claws of his hands and his hooves that were just visible below his hem had been painted gold to match the trim on his robes. One of his compatriots had more facial jewelry than Dib, while the other had intricately wrapped horns.

“What the fuck is all that??” Zim said before Dib could even get a word out.

“Customary Vortian garb, of course,” Lard Nar replied. If he had detected the disdain in Zim’s voice, it didn’t show.

“Since when?? None of you ever wore all _that_ to Irken celebrations,” Zim said, bewildered. 

“Yes, that would be because it was … _heavily_ discouraged by the Empire,” Lard Nar said with a wry look. He handed over a skein of purple yarn to one of his compatriots and Zim visibly shied backwards.

“It’s heavily discouraged by _me_ , as well,” Zim warned. “You're not touching my antennae. I need those to hear things!”

“You and I both know you really only need the ends free in order to hear things,” Lard Nar said with smug look as Zim glowered back.

“That would be technically correct, _yes_ ,” Zim said through gritted teeth.

“Fantastic!” Lard Nar said, taking him by the shoulders wheeling him around and handing him off to his friend with the decorated horns. “You go with Chan Thara, here, and Dib —”

“Oh no …”

“— Cha Dee will handle you.”

“But I’m a little, uh, lacking in the horn department,” Dib said skeptically, running his fingers through his hair as if Lard Nar might have thought he was hiding some under his cowlicks.

“Cha Dee is our expert in traditional piercings and body jewelry,” Lard Nar replied, watching with a smirk as Dib’s eyes widened.

“Bye, Zim! You’re on your own!” Dib said as he leaped to his feet and trotted after a jingling Cha Dee.

“Traitor!” Zim yelled.

But Dib was already out the door.

* * *

_II._

When the finally reconvened, Dib spent a solid five minutes in absolute hysterics. The stalks of Zim’s antennae were wrapped in silver and purple yarn with a spray of beaded fringe around the ends, and large, fluffy tassels hanging on either side of his head. It would have actually looked quite nice, if Zim didn’t insist on looking so miffed about it.

“Laugh it up, Dib,” he growled. “The second those chains in your face snag on something, I’ll be right there to make you feel like one hell of an idiot.”

Dib had tiny silver chains running from his bridge piercing to his septum and finally to his ears. He’d mercifully avoided all the pom poms and fringe and tassels Vortians seemed so fond of, instead ending up with keyhole-shaped stone weights where his gauges had previously been.

Zim’s eyes suddenly narrowed further and he put his hands on either side of Dib’s face, tipping it down so he could take in either side of Dib’s nose, and his upper lip.

“Did you let them put _more holes_ in your face??” Zim demanded.

“Maybe …”

“Ugh, _Dib!!_ How am I supposed to kiss you when you’ve put metal in my way??” Zim complained.

“Calm down. They’ve got some technique where it heals almost instantaneously,” Dib assured him. “They said it’s so healed, I could go jump in the ocean right now.” He grabbed Zim’s hand. “Which is exactly what we’re doing for the next few hours.”

Zim dug his heels in. “Diiiib …”

Dib sighed, turned, and learned in close. “Let me swim for a bit, and I’ll give you as much loud, semi-public sex as you want.”

Zim raised an antenna, fringe swaying. “Only _semi_ -public?”

“Somehow I doubt Lard Nar will let us come home tonight if we do anything more public than that.”

“Oh, _fine_ ,” Zim said melodramatically. “I can live with that.”

They whiled away the spare hours of the day, Dib satisfying his bewildering need to acquire a full-body sunburn while Zim poured over the remaining academic papers for any cited works he might want to chase down before they finally left Vort’s library behind for good. Zim's attention kept wandering to Dib's ass every time it rose above the surf, thoughts of Dib fucking him as the bobbed, weightless in the sea, filling his head until he was a whole other sort of wet. Zim was eventually able to get his human's attention and they disappeared into a small grove to fuck loudly before they had to prepare Zim to be a public figure for the evening.

“Ah! Dib! Hold up a second — there’s sand in my ass,” Zim complained from below him.

“There’s sand everywhere,” Dib murmured as he kissed up Zim’s neck. “It’s a goddamned beach. It’s inescapable.”

“Let me be on top!”

“Oh, fine. Suit yourself,” Dib said, just before Zim rolled them to the edge of the blanket, mounting him.

He nuzzled against Dib’s cheek, moaning as he rubbed against Dib’s body. “Mm, yes! This is so much better …”

Dib bucked his hips upwards as he stroked Zim’s antennae. Zim was heavier but there were also so many more points of contact. Dib had to admit that he loved how it felt to bury his cock up inside Zim’s body and let him pleasure himself with it. He cried out and put a hand over his mouth.

“Fuck … I’m close already …” he whimpered as Zim rode him, thighs slapping against his scrawny hips.

Zim pulled his hand away and leaned in. “Do it, coward.”

“The whole beach is gonna hear me …”

“The whole beach already saw your dick,” Zim hissed in his ear with a smirk. “Tell them you know how to use it.” He pinned Dib’s arms down and rode him that much harder.

“ _Zim_ …” Dib squeaked out, feet hanging off the blanket and toes curling in the sand.

“Let them hear how good I am, Dib,” Zim panted from above him.

Dib shouted his name again and again, causing winged creatures above them to scatter, fleeing the din. Zim egged him on, his words weaving in and out of the sound of crashing waves. When Dib finally submitted to an overwhelming orgasm, he arched his back as Zim rode him, slamming his body down until he followed, not far behind. He collapsed on his human, laughing breathlessly as Dib finally got his hands free and held him.

“Oh my god … when did we get like this?” Dib asked, kissing his cheek.

“Like what?”

“Fucking in the open and just … I don’t know. Enjoying each other,” Dib replied, eyes closed. “Why did we waste so much time fighting? I like this so much better.”

Zim gently nipped his ear. “Promise me we’ll still be like this when we have the smeets,” he whispered desperately. “Promise me we won’t go back to having huge fights all the time. Promise me we’ll still find time to make love to each other. Promise … that you’ll still love me if I stay chubby and my body does weird things.”

“Hmm, that depends,” Dib said with a smirk. “What kinda weird things?”

Zim rested his cheek against Dib’s chest, drawing patterns in the sand beside them. “The lactation thing has me concerned. I have no idea if that’s going to happen to me and if it does, I don’t know if it’ll be permanent or not,” he said nervously.

“You with tits sounds phenomenal …”

Zim shot him a wry look just out of view. “They’re for feeding smeets, Dib. Get it together.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” He cuddled Zim close. “You’d be beautiful. With or without them, I’ll still be attracted to you. I’ll still love you. We’ll still fuck every chance we get. And I don’t want to ever fight with you again.”

“Bickering is fine, though,” Zim said, kissing his way to Dib’s mouth. 

“Of course. Where would we be without banter?” He kissed Zim gently, then collapsed back against the sand, eyes closed. “Shit …”

“What’s wrong?” Zim asked, sitting up slightly.

“I’m dying to put my head between your thighs …” Dib whimpered. “Fuck, sometimes it hits me hard out of nowhere and it feels like there’s nothing I can do to stop myself …”

Zim rolled off to the side, legs spread wide. Dib didn’t need to be asked twice, or even once. He dove between Zim’s thighs, reveling in the way they pressed on either side of his head. He greedily lapped up his own cum, desperate to get to the taste of Zim underneath it. He swirled his tongue along the walls of Zim’s pussy, drinking deep from the sweetness that flooded his mouth.

Zim’s hand was suddenly at the back of his head, urging him to press in deeper, tongue-fuck him a little harder. Zim’s legs wrapped around him, clawed toes running up and down his back, hands grabbing fistfuls of hair.

“Fuck, Dib … you can’t get me this close and not get me off,” Zim panted. “Just a little more … please …”

Dib reached up and massaged right where he knew the tip of Zim’s cock was resting. Zim gasped, body tensing in anticipation. He mumbled a repeated, “Yes, yes, _yes_ … Oh, Dib! Please! Yes!!” punctuated with a trill or a chirp that assured Dib he was really into it. Dib stretched his tongue in as far as he could, and pressed in hard, hoping he would hit the little cluster of nerves dead center.

Zim howled with pleasure above him, and Dib mentally did a little touchdown dance.

He re-emerged and flopped down next to Zim, who immediately kissed every inch of his face.

“You’re so gross,” Zim mumbled as he licked some stray cum from Dib’s lips.

“You literally get off on it,” Dib replied with a smirk as Zim rested his head against his shoulder.

“Fuck, what’s happening to us?” Zim asked softly.

“We’re in love,” Dib replied simply. 

“We’ve been together … shit. Three years?” Zim said, partially to himself. “Were we not in love _before_ this?”

Dib gently stroked Zim’s antennae, prompting his mate to toss a leg over his thigh and snuggle in close, purring.

“I mean, I’ve _always_ loved you,” Dib said softly. “That first year was just … really awful. I _needed_ you, more than anything else. You were my one source of love and attention and ... I tried to bleed you dry.”

“I would have let you.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s the part that scares me,” Dib said, pressing close. “Eventually, I realized what I was putting you through. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it, though. It makes me sick to think about … I put you through hell and you still loved me enough to go looking for me when no one else cared. If it were up to dad and Gaz, I would be dead right now.”

“I wouldn’t blame Gaz so much as your dad,” Zim pointed out. “Your dad can go play in traffic.”

Dib snickered. “And you told him as much, too, didn’t you?”

“I believe my exact words were: ‘Screw this. Screw you. And fix your own damn window’,” Zim replied, clearly amused.

“Huh. Do you think he ever did?” Dib asked, staring up at the canopy above them.

“What’s the alternative?”

“Leave it that way out of spite, I guess,” Dib said with a shrug. “It’s so weird to think I haven’t seen him or Gaz in over a year … I haven’t even gone by the house since he kicked me out of it.” He stroked Zim’s cheek. “Moving out was the best possible thing for me.”

“It’s good to hear you actually say it. Sometimes I worry that I shouldn’t have told him to get fucked,” Zim said sheepishly.

“Nah, he needed to be taken down a peg,” Dib assured him. “I guess I’m just glad I didn’t inherit his big head.”

Zim glanced up. “Well…”

“Oh, look at the time! We’ve got a farewell dinner to attend,” Dib said, sitting up and ruffling his antennae. “Come on. Let’s get going.”

By the time they made it back, Lard Nar was frantically trying to get everything ready and rushed them off to shower and get dressed.

“Can you tell I’m fat in this?” Zim asked, trying to get his robes to fall correctly.

Dib kissed the top of his head. “You’re not fat.”

“See, the funny thing about that line is that it only works if you _didn’t_ call me fat just this morning,” Zim remarked tersely.

“Well, I was wrong. You’re chubby and you look great.”

“Ugh, no one is going to be able to take me seriously!” Zim whined, looking himself over in the mirror. “If this stupid dinner had happened around the time I came to earth? I would have talked about myself until someone literally muzzled me. But now … I’m having a hard time seeing anything I’ve done in a positive light. Besides, who wants to hear washed-up, knocked-up, fake-Invader Zim wax poetic about wiping out the rest of his race??”

“You can’t look at it like that,” Dib said gently, pulling him close.

“I have perspective, now, Zim moped, head against Dib's shoulder. "How the hell am I _supposed to look at it_?”

“You survived living in a civilization of genetically modified cyborgs bent on universal domination, somehow wiping out more of them than anyone else before escaping and managing to make a life for yourself. I’d say that, for an Irken, taking a mate and starting a family is an act of bravery,” Dib pointed out, rubbing his back. “Besides, these people think you’re a hero already. They’re not going to resent you for keeping yourself safe while you’re pregnant.”

“I guess …”

“Remember how, no matter how awry your plans went, you used to pretend that’s how you meant for them to go from the beginning?”

Zim buried his face in his hands. “Ugh … why are you trying to remind me??”

“Because that’s what you need to do now. This isn’t the time to be humble. This is the time to retcon your motivations and make them fit the narrative.” He sat down on the bed and pulled Zim into his lap. “The things you’ve told me … they’ve hurt you, Zim. Badly. No one would blame you if you snapped and, say, wiped out most of the other Invaders in the middle of a stressful combat situation. I think that would be pretty brave if you.”

Zim put his head on Dib’s shoulder. “I really wish that was the real story,” he said softly.

“No one else ever needs to know it isn’t.” Dib kissed his cheek. "Our secret. ... Well, and Lard Nar's, too, I guess."

As if summoned, Lard Nar knocked loudly on the door, startling them. “Please tell me the two of you are _actually_ getting ready …”

“Yeah,” Zim called down hurriedly. “Dib’s just helping me, uh, untangle my tassels. We’ll be out in just a second.” He shoved the tassels into Dib’s hand. “Help me get these stupid things back on, would you?”

By the time they made it out the door, the sun was hanging low on the horizon. Zim kept close to Dib, antennae hanging behind his head, well aware that Lard Nar kept shooting glances in his direction.

“I really expected for you to relax at least a little bit by this point,” Lard Nar finally said.

“You and me both,” Zim muttered. He looked over, trying to sort through the tangle of thoughts cluttering his mind. But when he finally opened his mouth, all that came out was a small, “Why me?”

Lard Nar visibly wilted and ran a hand through his fur, exasperated. “Zim, we’ve been over this …”

“I mean in a _cosmic_ sense!” Zim said desperately. “I should have been dead so many times over. I shouldn’t have survived in space long enough to get to Earth. I shouldn’t have survived my Evaluation. I certainly shouldn’t have been allowed to return to earth, and even then I’m shocked Dib didn’t kill me long before falling in love with me …”

Lard Nar fixed Dib with a rather disturbed look. “Figuratively, I hope?”

Dib turned scarlet. “Nope … pretty literally …” he admitted.

Zim was still ranting, deep in his own thoughts. “Never mind the fact that I never should have been shipped off to Vort in the first place! Smeets like me are usually euthanized! But everything keeps coming together and I just don’t get it! The whole time I’ve been here, even, I keep waiting for my luck to run out, to wake up strapped to a gurney with my squeedlyspooch on display, but every morning the dream still isn’t over!”

Lard Nar looked perplexed. “Are you complaining, or …?”

“Obviously _not_! I just don’t understand what the point of it all is!” Zim shouted.

Lard Nar stared off at the horizon while Zim stomped along beside him, agitated.

“The point is … whatever you make of it,” Lard Nar said quietly.

Zim scoffed.

“What do you want me to say, Zim? That’s there’s some ancient intelligence controlling everything and it has a particularly vested interest in _you_ , specifically?”

Zim rolled his eyes. “You just don’t get it …”

“I _do_ get it. I also think it’s an absurd coincidence that you ended up here when you did.”

There was that strange well of anxiety once more, filling up and spilling over. Zim felt like someone had abruptly pulled the emergency brake in his brain. “... And why is that?” he asked carefully.

Lard Nar turned away and fixed the horizon with an unreadable stare. “Morale has been low, alright?” he admitted. “More and more people would rather just get back to life as usual and _not_ try to take out a galactic superpower. We’re rebuilding. People have families. And, for the moment, we’re safe. There’s an awful lot of talk about how risky it is to go up against the Empire right now. But then, who do I pluck out of the sky but the _one person_ who’s actually taken down their defenses and lived to tell about it?”

Lard Nar was getting that edge to his voice again, the one that made Zim feel like a _thing_. 

“They’ll listen to you," he said with quiet intensity. "Never mind how things worked out the way they did. Luck isn’t a finite resource. It’s a semblance of order in a sea of random events and variables.” He glanced down at Zim. “By which I mean, everything has culminated in you being given a massive party in your honor. You may as well enjoy it.”

They stopped in front of the doors of an unassuming little building at the center of the campus, and before Zim could say anything or even fully appreciate their surroundings, the doors whooshed open.

“After you,” Lard Nar said.

A wall of sound and color explodeed through the opening and Zim suddenly found himself unable to move. What he was seeing and the feeling that had suddenly washed over him were disparate. 

_Your time has come. Prepare yourself for all you deserve._

"A ... surprise party?" he whispered, confused.

Dib gave him a little nudge. "What are you talking about? It's just a regular party." He gave Zim an odd look. "A regular party that we've spent the whole damn day preparing for ..."

Zim's eyes focused back on the scene in front of him. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Zoned out for a moment there," he mumbled, still feeling a bit unanchored and surreal.

Zim took Dib’s hand and stepped inside. The inside of the building was wall-to-ceiling opalescent stone varying in shades from white to olive, sparkling in the glow of floating crystalline lights. Tables ringed the room and Vortians in getups much like Lard Nar's were scattered about.

"There's still some time before dinner," Lard Nar said, ferrying Zim and his human along. "I'll introduce you to some of my students in the meantime."

They were immediately wrapped in such a sensory onslaught that Zim could barely keep up. He rode a wave of ever-increasing anxiety as Lard Nar shepherded them through a sea of bodies to their places at a long table at the front of the massive, ornate ballroom, where he was introduced to what seemed like an endless stream of Vortians. Names and other pertinent information went straight through him as he tried desperately to maintain some semblance normalcy to the outside world.

He really wasn’t cut out for this sort of thing anymore, he decided as he nodded mechanically to the pleasantries of yet another one of Lard Nar’s students. His old mentor might have remembered him as precocious and a perpetual spotlight stealer, but what he didn’t seem to understand was that some large part of Zim had broken the day he was put on trial. Gone was his ability to delude himself into thinking everything revolved around just how great he was, and with it, his confidence overall. What he never bothered to explain to anyone -- not Dib and certainly not Lard Nar -- was exactly how many things put his brain right back into that moment. Crowds, loud noises, any situation where all eyes were -- or even had the potential to be -- on him seemed to tip his brain into a dangerous place where he felt like all the air had been sucked from his lungs. With every new person who came through the door, he was closer and closer to puking into one of the decorative planters.

When the food was finally brought out and Lard Nar signaled for Zim to read off Dib’s speech, he could barely even hear himself over the panicked buzzing in his brain. Something about just being one person. Something about the accomplishments of the Resisty and the formerly-imprisoned Vortians. Something about his future smeets, and how he wanted to bring them back to Vort one day.

When Zim finally sat down, breathless and shaking, he only hoped it was good enough to make Lard Nar feel that he’d done the right thing in letting Zim stick around in the first place. The thunderous applause just about knocked him backwards.

Had he ... failed?

“That was perfect, Zim!” Dib said with a smile, but the moment he looked over at his partner, his face fell. “Uh, Zim?”

Zim's mouth wouldn't work and he was moderate terrified of what would happen if he opened it, anyhow.

“He doesn’t look so good,” Lard Nar said worriedly to Dib. “Take him outside. I’ll handle things from here.”

Dib scooped Zim up from his chair and all Zim could do was cling to him, silent and trembling.

"I've got you. You're okay," Dib murmured. He carried Zim out the back doors near where they’d been sitting, trading the warm glow of the artificial lighting inside for the silvery glow of Vort’s three artificial moons. The air was chilly and Zim pressed that much closer, face buried in Dib's shoulder. Dib could feel the heat of Zim's short, staccato breaths through his robes. He sat down heavily against the outside of the building, shifting Zim into his lap. Zim's antennae rested forwards against his neck, no doubt listening to his pulse. That was one of the stranger things that seemed to ground Zim when he was upset.

“What happened in there?” Dib asked, putting a hand on the back of Zim's neck.

Zim just buried his face in Dib’s turquoise robes, breathing fast and shallow.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me right now,” Dib reassured him, settling in to wait.

With no other sound but the distant calls of night creatures from the edge of campus, Dib felt like he needed to do something to distract Zim from whatever was holding his thoughts hostage. He was drawing a blank for conversation topics, and as he watched Vort's phantom moons hang in the inky black sky, the only song he could seem to remember was Ernie from _Sesame Street_ singing _I Don’t Want to Live on the Moon_. 

Well, he figured, it was better than nothing.

There had to be something to the saying that music calms the savage beast, because it always seemed to work on Zim, no matter what sort of mood he was in. Dib had lost count of the number of times Zim had stormed out about something, only to poke his head back in when Dib picked up his guitar.

 _“So although I may go, I’ll be coming home soon … ‘Cause I don't want to live on the moon …_ ”

“That’s sure rich, coming from the guy who wants to stay on Vort rather than go home,” Zim muttered from under his chin.

Dib looked down at a rather sullen Zim. “Oh, hello. Welcome back," he said cheerily.

“ _Don’t_ , Dib,” Zim huffed. “I’m not in the mood.”

Dib stroked the back of his head. “Are you in the mood to tell me what the hell happened in there? You nailed that speech and then it was like …” Realization hit Dib like a runaway 18-wheeler and he had never felt more disappointed in himself. “Like you had a flashback,” he said guiltily.

Zim looked away, antennae laying flat.

“Is that what happened?” Dib asked, petting him.

“Yeah,” Zim whispered. “I don’t like to advertise it, but my Existence Evaluation kinda ruined me on things like large crowds and dinners in my honor and raucous clapping … all I can think of is the entirety of Judgementia applauding my impending execution.”

“Why didn’t you _say something_?” Dib asked, trying not to sound frustrated. “I highly doubt Lard Nar would have made you do all this if he knew you had PTSD.”

“It’s _not_ PTSD!” Zim insisted. “It’s not _that_ bad. Which is why I thought I could just muscle through it, like I always do.”

Dib suddenly held him tight, chin over his shoulder. “ _You shouldn’t have to_ ,” he said, sounding a little emotional. “Jesus Christ, Zim. There’s no reason to punish yourself like that.”

“I can handle it …”

“Yeah. Right up until you _can’t_ anymore, and then _this_ happens," Dib pointed out, exasperated.

“Why are you mad at _me_??" Zim grumbled, hiding his face again. "I’m the one hurting, here!”

Dib made a frustrated noise into Zim’s shoulder. “I’m mad _because_ you’re hurting, dumbass! Fuck …”

They held each other in silence, listening to the distant sounds of the night and thinking unspoken thoughts. Dib stroked Zim’s neck softly as he tipped his head back to watch the sky.

“Do we have to go back?” he asked, sounding small.

“We’re kind of on the hook now,” Dib said with a sigh. "Are you feeling alright yet?"

"If I say no, will you let me stay out here a little longer?" Zim mumbled, playing with the ridiculous beaded fringe besmirching his antennae.

"Of course," Dib said softly, causing him to perk up in surprise. "I enjoy just holding you and making you feel good. I'm happy to sit here until you're ready to go back."

Zim cuddled against him silently, soaking up the warmth and relaxing until his breathing and heartbeat finally synced up with Dib's. He let his consciousness wander as he purred softly, the drumming of Dib's loud, clunky human heart lulling him into a near-trance-like state. Eventually, Dib brushed his antennae, and Zim looked up.

"You're too cute for your own good," Dib said with a small smile.

"Cute, and ready to go face the crowds again, I guess," Zim said with a sigh. His nerves still felt frazzled.

“If you need to bail, just grab my hand and squeeze twice. I’ll find a way to get us out of there, no questions asked.”

“Alright …” Zim hefted himself to his feet with minimal assistance from Dib.

They slipped back inside, and while they returned to their seat relatively unnoticed, Lard Nar was wearing a rather concerned expression.

“What happened?” he asked as Zim skipped right over the main course and grabbed the plate full of cake that was sitting slightly further away.

Dib leaned over to Lard Nar behind Zim’s back. While Dib was otherwise occupied, Zim quickly grabbed the glass in front of him, gave it a sniff, determined it was at least 5% alcohol, and quickly took a large gulp. The perfect remedy for frazzled nerves.

“Someone didn’t think it was pertinent information that things like crowds and clapping give him flashbacks,” Dib said under his breath.

Lard Nar looked more than a little alarmed. “Oh, my …”

“He’ll be fine,” Dib said quickly. “Just don’t be worried if we pop in and out a couple times tonight.”

Zim quickly tossed back the rest of his drink and set the glass at the far end of the table before Dib could turn back.

“Zim,” Lard Nar said, putting a hand on his shoulder and causing him to jump.

“Uh, yes?” Zim said nervously.

“Don’t let me overwhelm you any more tonight, alright? The last thing I want is you stressed out on your last night here.”

Zim patted Lard Nar’s hand awkwardly. “Thanks. I appreciate it. Uh … Hey, does anyone want more cake? … No? Just me? Be right back, then!” He scurried away from the table while the other two stared quizzically after him.

While he was grateful that he now had a valid excuse to disappear in the next half hour or so, he still had to sit tight until then. He had decided the only way that was happening was if he was intoxicated enough not to care. The last time he and Dib drank together was at a college party that had permanently ruined him on Baileys Irish Cream. The stuff definitely didn’t taste so great the second time around. But he figured that a few more glasses of weird Vortian champagne probably wouldn’t hurt, so long as he actually ate something and it didn't all hit his PAK at once. With that in mind, he snagged two more glasses, downed both of them, and grabbed two more slices of cake to bring back with him.

“Oh my god, Zim,” Dib groaned when he saw Zim’s haul. “At least nibble on a salad or something.”

“This is _my night_ , Dib,” Zim replied resolutely, “and I will stuff myself with cake if I want to.”

Dib shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“You know,” Lard Nar said to Dib, “I have a colleague who’s been researching the Irken diet. Would you believe that this dependency on sugar is a recent phenomenon?”

Zim rolled his eyes, leaned on the table, and let them continue to talk past him. The less he had to engage tonight, the better. His flashbacks had left him feeling emotionally and physically drained, and now the familiar irritation was starting to set in. The aftermath of these sorts of things was something like a psychic burn; engaging with the real world was painful on a level that was difficult to describe and all he wanted to do was turn inward and rest and heal. Unfortunately, he had no such liberty tonight, which meant he would be turning his personality up to eleven in an attempt to keep a buffer between himself and everything around him.

He managed to get the passing waiter to replace his glass three times before Dib finally looked over and caught him mid-sip.

“Wait, what is that?” Dib asked suspiciously, snagging it from Zim. He sniffed it, then gave Zim a horrified look. “What the _hell_ , Zim?? You can’t have alcohol!”

Zim snagged it back and grinned. “I think you’ll find that _yes,_ I absolutely _can_.”

“Ugh, _fine_. You can have a little bit, but that’s it,” Dib conceded, irritable. This was neither a fight he assumed he could win, nor one he particularly felt like engaging with at the moment.

Zim took a few more pointed sips before setting the glass down and inhaling his third piece of cake.

“You’re such a brat,” Dib groused. “I hope you don’t pull this kind of shit around the kids. It’d be a nightmare.”

“You’re just jealous that I’m going to be the cool mom,” Zim said around a mouthful of cake.

“No, I’m really not.”

Zim picked up his glass in one hand and his empty plate in the other. “Cool mom’s going to get more cake,” he said as he stood up.

Dib caught his arm. “Not with that drink, you’re not.”

Zim narrowed his eyes and took a prolonged sip, just for effect.

“Fine, be that way. But I’m supervising,” Dib said, standing up. “It’s about time I got some practice with babysitting.”

He was more exhausted than upset with his mate, really. Zim could just be _a lot_ and of course he had to be pure, high-octane Zim _tonight_ , of all nights, when he’d made plans to somehow wrestle the forbidden texts from Vort’s heavily fortified database. 

Dib watched as Zim stumbled into one of the tables and caught himself, looking a bit dazed.

“You’re totally trashed already, aren’t you?” Dib asked, putting an arm around his waist. He was disappointed, but not quite surprised.

“‘M not …” Zim mumbled, trying not to spill the rest of his glass. When had the floor gotten so unstable?

“Oh yeah? How much is the room spinning right now?”

“No more than usual,” Zim insisted, holding on to Dib’s arm tightly.

“Jesus, Zim. I said you could have a few sips as a treat, not get yourself completely sloshed.”

“I only _had_ a few sips!”

“Okay, give me this,” Dib said, snatching his glass. “You have a heist to commit and you’re not going to get anything done stumbling all over.” He tossed back the rest of Zim’s drink in one gulp.

“Dib, no!! That was miiiiine!” Zim whined.

“You’re not even _supposed to be drinking_! You’re pregnant!” Dib pointed out as Zim took back the empty glass and stared at it sadly. “You can have alcohol at home once those eggs are out of you.”

“But I want _this_ alcohol!” he moaned. “It’s my party, Dib!!”

“I’m sure Lard Nar will let us have a bottle for the road.”

Zim whined and slipped from his arms into an unhappy heap on the floor. Dib glanced around, feeling relieved that everyone else appeared to be several glasses deep into the night as well. He bent down to pick Zim up.

“We’re going for a walk,” he said, hoisting Zim up.

“What are you doing?? You don’t get to carry Zim!!”

“Stop struggling, dumbass. I’m taking you outside!!”

Zim slumped over his shoulder, arms dangling against his back, emitting a shrill, “Noooooooo…” in protest of his condition. Dib just rolled his eyes and headed towards the door. 

“Is he alright?” one of the Vortians asked as they passed.

“He’ll be fine. Just needs some fresh air, is all,” Dib replied as he scurried towards the exit, trying to avoid Zim's reputation becoming completely tarnished.

Once out into the night, breathing in the salty air, he felt Zim finally relax.

“Pretty great diversion, right?” Zim asked with a stupid grin. 

“Oh, is that what that was?” Dib asked as Zim set his head on his shoulder.

“Mhmm.”

“I thought diversions were supposed to divert attention _away from us_.”

Zim’s antennae perked. “Huh? No, I’m pretty sure they … oh. Wait. No.”

“Uh-huh …”

“Well. Shit.”

“It’s fine. At least now no one will wonder where we’ve gone to. They’ll just assume you’re off being sick in the bushes somewhere.”

“It happened _one time_ and I never hear the end of it,” Zim grumbled.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I forgot what a lightweight you are,” Dib murmured, rubbing his back.

“I thought you said I’d gotten chubby,” Zim grumbled.

“I mean with alcohol. All you have to do is look at it and it gets you buzzed.”

“I’ll be fine by the time we get to the library,” Zim replied with a sigh. “My PAK treats it like poison. You really don't have to worry about the smeets. It'll never even get a chance to reach them and it’ll be out of my system in no time.” 

He wrapped his arms around Dib’s neck and his legs around Dib’s waist, opting to enjoy the closeness instead of focusing on the indignity of being carried. Vort’s three moons hung in the sky, casting an eerie silver glow over the usually bright landscape.

“Do you really wanna come back here someday?” Zim asked softly. 

“It would be nice to get a proper vacation in,” Dib replied. “Why? Is it starting to grow on you?”

“A little, yeah. And I can finally see us actually coming back. I’ve been on high alert with Lard Nar the whole time but … he really seems to think of me like family.” Zim hugged him. “I guess I never thought I might need that. Someone to look up to as a parental figure. I think we should come back with the smeets at some point so he can meet them properly.”

They finally reached the library, and Dib set Zim back down on his own two feet. Zim shifted from foot to foot, as if calibrating himself.

“See? All sober,” he said, trotting up to the door and stumbling slightly on the steps before waving his hand in front of the reader. The door popped open and they slipped inside.

As predicted, all was silent. The lights had been turned down and the main source of illumination was the server rack in the middle of the room. Dib felt as if he were intruding on something almost sacred, but Zim grabbed his hand and hauled him along into the center of the building.

“So, how does this work?” Dib asked, suddenly nervous.

Zim pulled his robes off and tossed them to Dib before reaching into his PAK and pulling out a cable. “I’m going to plug in, hopefully disable whoever handles access on the virtual side, and rewrite some permissions. But in order to do that, I’m going to have to enter the system. You just have to stand watch and pull the plug if someone comes in, because my physical body will be useless in the meantime.”

“Wait, so you’ll _actually_ be in there?? Like Tron??”

“Yes, but with less tiny motorcycles and my physical body stays here,” Zim said hurriedly as he pulled apart a panel, exposing the appropriate jack. “No time to waste. Can I trust you, Dib?”

Dib looked at his mate, belly hanging over his leggings, large ruby eyes reflecting the room around them.

“With your life,” Dib promised. 

“Good. That’s what I like to hear,” Zim said as he plugged into the server. 

His arms immediately dropped to his sides as his PAK and eyes glowed an almost tonally dissonant shade of bubblegum pink. Dib waved a hand in front of him, unsurprised when he didn’t react. It was easy to forget that Zim was an AI in a meat suit, up until Zim went and did something like this. With a resigned sigh, Dib hopped up on the counter and played with Zim’s antennae, unsure of what to do with himself for the time being and thoroughly unaccustomed to being alone.

* * *

_III._

Zim blinked and found the library around him replaced by … one very much like the one he’d been standing in a moment ago. The only difference was that Dib had suddenly vanished, and the cables attaching him to the mainframe were nowhere to be found. He looked up, wondering what this digital world’s sky might look like, and found that this library had a few thousand extra stories. He sighed.

“Index, please,” he whispered, and the glowing search bar appeared in front of him. He input the name of one of the papers he’d been trying to access, and the prompt appeared with the paper in question, plus a little green button that said, “Go!”

“Who built you? This is some Web 1.0 bullshit,” Zim grumbled. “I’m shocked you don’t have an ‘I’m feeling lucky!’ button …”

With a pleasant tone, one blinked into existence. Zim gave the room a weary expression. “Someone’s got a sense of humor. Fine, I’ll indulge you,” he said, slamming the button. The floors scrolled down past him, too fast to take in, abruptly stopping and sliding several meters sideways into the stacks, where Zim found himself holding a redacted paper. It was exactly the one he was hoping for, and, as expected, all of the words were blurred out.

“Change permissions,” Zim said to the room. The silent but omnipresent database seemed to be the only consciousness besides his own, so he was no longer concerned about being overheard.

As he expected, _Improper Credentials_ appeared in front of him in red text, accompanied by a buzzer. Zim swiped it away in irritation. He thought a moment, then reached into the papers and pulled out their code. He located the encryption and deflated a bit. He was hoping it wouldn’t be quite so secure.

After considering his options, he yanked out the code for his government-issued chip and looked it over. It was uploading data to a central database, as Lard Nar had said, but Zim could also see that Lard Nar himself had been peeking in on his data quite often. Location, biometrics, ambient noise data; all of it had his digital fingerprints all over it. Well, that sure validated at least one of his suspicions. He selected Lard Nar's data and skimmed through it until he located the identifier for Lard Nar's chip. 

“Thanks for the signature …” He rearranged some of the code, this time with his chip bearing the key of Lard Nar’s own.

“Computer!” he shouted, half out of reflex. “There’s been an error. Re-run permissions.”

_Rebooting … permissions loading._

_Identifying client … Welcome, Head Scientist Lard Nar._

“That’s more like it!” Zim said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Alright. Make a copy of this document and send it to Irken Zim.”

_Irken Zim is outside of the clearance group for Project Loveless. Approve transmission anyway?_

“Project Loveless?” Zim whispered, his anxiety suddenly spiking once more. Lard Nar tracking him through his clever little spy chip was one thing. The codename for his pet project put Zim wildly on edge. What the hell were the Vortians working on? 

“Display data on Project Loveless,” Zim commanded. So what if they were leaving tomorrow? Zim had spent much too much time panicking over his old mentor’s true intentions and it was high time he got to the bottom of it.

_Clearance cannot be granted remotely. Biometric data required for all project clearance._

Or not.

“Ugh, fine,” Zim groaned. “Okay. How about this? Gather all documents restricted under Project Loveless clearance, make copies, and send to Irken Zim.”

_Irken Zim is outside—_

“Yeah, I got that. Make copies and send them anyway.”

_Processing … processing … data transmission complete._

“I like you a lot better than my computer at home,” Zim said, patting the shelf appreciatively. “No sassing, no talking back … no talking, period. You’re the future of interfaces.”

_May I assist you further?_

“That’ll be all. Log me out.”

_Good bye!_

The system chimed and Zim abruptly found himself back on the main floor, tethered to the mainframe, leggings around his ankles and Dib’s face between his legs. 

_Wait a second._

“Dib …”

“Mmm?”

“What the _hell_ are you doing?”

Dib gave a few more thrusts of his tongue before sliding it out completely and placing a few lingering kisses between his legs. “Nothing,” he said, as if he hadn’t just been caught with his tongue up Zim’s snatch.

“Fuck, you smell like an open bottle of champagne … did everything you chugged hit you while I was away?” Zim asked, ruffling his hair.

“Like a train,” Dib slurred, leaning against him. “I can’t resist how good you taste …”

“Well, I got what I needed. But there was some _weird_ shit in there,” he added softly. He looked down and Dib was suddenly in his face, smelling overpoweringly like fermented fruit and kissing him deeply. Zim briefly considered pushing him away so they could focus on more pressing concerns, but before he could act, Dib picked him up and pulled his leggings off the rest of the way. Zim suddenly realized that Dib’s pants were midway down his legs and abruptly, the only pressing concern he could focus on was Dib's cock pressing against his entrance. Why worry about the weird shit in the virtual world when they could be doing weird shit out here?

“You know,” Dib said quietly, setting him on the counter, “as long as they think we’re off fucking each other, maybe we _should_ … you know, for cover.”

His hand was already making its way up Zim’s thigh, and Zim spread his legs wide in response, tilting his head as Dib kissed his neck. He let Dib lay him back, staring up through the massive skylight that made up the roof of the library. He watched as a shooting star streaked overhead, no less impressive for being the result of thousands of tiny projectors creating the facsimile of a nighttime sky. Dib slipped inside him and his back arched in response. All of his thoughts and worries dissolved in that instant as Dib whispered drunkenly but lovingly next to his antenna. It was good to be loved and good to be made love to and all he wanted to do was focus on all the little ways their bodies touched and moved against each other, the breathless way Dib praised him, and the overwhelmingly desperate pressure between his legs that ached for release.

“Think anyone noticed we've been gone for so long?” Zim asked, panting as Dib’s cock darted in and out of him.

“I’m sure they know not to bother us,” Dib whispered back, massaging the base of Zim’s antenna.

Zim ran his fingers through Dib’s hair, pulled him into a kiss, and then made desperate, searching eye contact. “I … want to get you off with my mouth,” he whispered nervously.

Dib looked suddenly sober. “Uh. You sure?”

“What’s that look for? You put your face between _my_ legs all the time. I should probably try it at least once …”

“Okay, but … what about you?”

“I don’t have to get off,” he mumbled, looking away.

“How about this … you sit on my face and that way I can get you off and you can get me off, and that way we’re even?”

“Seems like a good way to muffle you so you don’t get us caught,” Zim said with a smirk.

Dib hopped up beside him and laid down. Zim sidled over and knelt with his legs on either side of Dib’s head. He lowered himself slowly, letting Dib guide him until he was resting all his weight on top of him. Dib’s tongue slipped inside him and he took a moment to enjoy the feeling of Dib exuberantly eating him out before he remembered his end of the deal.

He leaned forwards, resting on his elbows and examining the sight in front of him. Human cocks were so strange. Hundreds of thousands of years of evolution had somehow culminated in something that didn’t sheath itself and wasn’t prehensile. He briefly ran through the logistics of making Dib an Irken dick to replace his current one. An upgrade of sorts.

Dib lifted Zim’s hips slightly. “You alright up there?” he asked.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I … blissed out for a moment,” Zim mumbled. Blissed out while thinking of getting his bits absolutely destroyed by a thick, pink Irken tentacle. He figured he should probably keep that part to himself. 

“You don’t have to go down on me if you’re having second thoughts. I’ve got a free hand and I’m enjoying having you on top of me,” Dib insisted.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll do it …” Zim tentatively inched closer.

“If you hate the taste, don’t force yourself,” Dib babbled nervously. “I won’t be offended. Not everyone can taste as good as you …”

Zim ran a finger lightly from his ass to his balls to shut him up. Dib let out a breathy “Oh!” and went back to eating him out. Satisfied that Dib wasn’t breathing down his neck about things, he took the entirety of Dib’s cock into his mouth and braced himself.

_Huh._

Not half bad. Alright. He could work with this.

He wrapped his tongue around the base and bobbed his head. Dib didn’t taste nearly as sweet as Zim — something he knew from all the times Dib had tongue-fucked him and then kissed him … and the handful of times Zim had put a finger inside himself and then taken a taste — but the tiny adjustments Zim had made to Dib’s DNA had clearly had a non-zero effect on his cock.

He couldn’t wait until his own finally reappeared. Making Dib slide his lips all the way to the base while the length of it was halfway down his throat was certainly a hot mental image. He wondered if Dib would allow him to take him from behind, give him a good ass-pounding. It would only be fair, after all. Zim moaned softly as he thought about grabbing Dib’s hips, slamming Dib’s ass back onto his cock, and making Dib cream himself.

Dib lifted Zim’s hips from his face, panting. “I’m really close … if you don’t wanna—”

Zim dropped back onto Dib’s face and rolled his hips slightly for good measure. “Shut up and let me finish you off, Dib,” he griped before diving back into it.

Dib whimpered underneath him, tongue lapping frantically, sending shivers up Zim’s spine.

“Oooh, good boy … good boy,” Zim mumbled with his mouth full. What had he just been thinking about? Oh, yeah; all the things he was going to do to Dib once his tentacle was back in business. He wondered if he could fit both Dib _and_ himself between his legs, when Dib’s tongue finally hit him in exactly the right way to cause him to abruptly climax. His pussy quivered and he made a muffled mewling noise as he sucked Dib’s dick that much harder.

“Zim! Watch it with the teeth! Oh, fuck …!”

Zim felt the cock between his lips jump and he shoved it in deeper, swallowing hard as Dib came. Dib’s hand was suddenly resting on the back of Zim’s head and he was _almost_ irritated; he already had a dick ejaculating down the back of his throat. The fuck else did Dib want from him?? But as Dib’s fingers brushed the base of Zim’s antennae, his thumb rubbing in gentle circles against his neck, Zim realized it wasn’t a show of dominance and relaxed against his mate’s body. 

A moment later, Zim rolled off to the side, breathing heavily. “No teeth, huh?” he said, antennae perked in amusement. “Kinda seems like maybe you like it …”

“Yeah, well, excuse me for not putting it past you to bite it clear off in your excitement,” Dib said, sitting up.

“Oh, calm down. It’s not like they don’t grow back,” he said with a grin. He glanced up to see Dib fixing him with a long-suffering look.

“Let’s get back to the party before anyone gets suspicious,” Dib said, reaching a hand out to help Zim up.

“Oh … speaking of suspicious … I was trying to tell you earlier. There was some _weird_ shit in there,” Zim said as he jabbed a thumb in the direction of the server rack, suddenly serious. 

“Like what?” Dib asked, grabbing Zim’s clothes and helping him get dressed.

“All of the papers I wanted were restricted under something called ‘Project Loveless’. I had them all sent to my tablet but the actual project details had too many layers of security,” Zim said.

“I hate to say this … but do we give a shit what the Vortians are up to after today?” Dib asked as Zim pulled his boots back on. “Unless I wake up tomorrow strapped to a gurney with a port in my arm and a catheter up my dick, I think we can officially close the books on this one. Mark it _no importante_.”

“Fine, but let the record at least show that _I was right_.”

“About …?”

“Lard Nar spying on us. I had to pull his access code in order to get clearance to send the papers, and I got it by looking at who had accessed the data in my chip,” Zim said quietly. 

“Well, _someone_ has to have access, and it may as well be the President of Vort,” Dib said, exasperated.

Zim looked hurt and edged away, but Dib pulled him back.

“Alright … Let’s say he _is_ collecting extra data, specifically on us,” Dib said, sounding thoroughly worn out. “So what? We’re gone tomorrow morning. He can’t hurt us. And if that helps defeat the Empire, I really can’t complain.”

Zim turned away, antennae laying flat.

“Oh,” Dib said softly, reaching for his shoulder. “Is that what this is about? Mixed feelings over the Vortians defeating Irk?”

“No,” Zim said defensively.

Dib coaxed him into his arms and Zim finally relented, climbing into his lap, chin on his shoulder.

“Maybe,” he whispered. 

Dib held him, rubbing his back and letting him slowly turn over the thoughts that buzzed like frantic bees in the dark recesses of his mind. Every little worry seemed to surface at once, until he could barely sort out one from the rest of the noise.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to let go,” Zim admitted. “I especially don’t know if I’m ready for the fall of Irk to be because of _me_. Indirectly or not … I’ve got a lot of blood on my hands, Dib. I don’t know if I can handle any more …”

“I get it,” Dib said. “As much as I hate my dad for being a twat and kicking me out, it’s not like I’d hire a hit on him. I can repeat to myself that I’m not obligated to care about the people I’m related to when they suck, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’ll always care about him on some level. Even if your society hurt you in ways I can’t begin to comprehend, you’re allowed to feel conflicted about it blinking out of existence.”

Zim sat quietly, letting Dib distract him with physical affection for a while longer. Vort was markedly better than Irk, and -- all spying aside -- he respected Lard Nar far more than he ever would Red and Purple. At this point, Zim mostly resented Irk and all of its people for being blatantly awful. It wasn’t enough to simply rebuke all of Irken society; Zim was upset, and he was going to _stay upset_ until someone went back in time and gave him a stable upbringing. Seeing as that was wholly unlikely to happen, he was beginning to suspect he may have to make his peace with feeling cheated for the rest of his life.

“Let’s go back,” Dib said gently.

Zim nodded and slid back down to the floor, his hand in Dib’s. 

They made their way back to the party in silence, Zim pressing close and Dib with his arm around Zim’s waist. They opened the doors and a wall of music and voices assaulted them as they stepped once more into the deluge.

Lard Nar seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“Zim! You’re looking better!” the Vortians said, clapping him on the back. Zim had to assume his old mentor was in about 6 drinks deep at this point.

“Yeah, we took a walk. The sea breeze is good for that kinda thing,” Zim replied.

“Good, good. Now that you’re back, there are people you still need to meet! Come along!”

He steered Zim into the room, Dib in tow. As Zim looked up, he tried to sort out Lard Nar’s expression. It was mostly the pleasant sort of look that comes from downing half a bottle of champagne, but there was something else. Something he'd only really ever seen when Dib looked at him.

As he was carted off to exchange pleasantries with Lard Nar’s colleagues, he realized in surprise that what he was seeing on his mentor’s face was _pride_.

* * *

_IV._

_Whap whap!!_

Dib was abruptly roused to consciousness by someone giving his cheek a couple exuberant swats. 

“Good morning!” Zim sang from above him, the ceiling lights giving him a distinct halo.

Dib scrunched his face in irritation. “Fuck off, Zim.”

He turned away and realized with confusion that he was sitting in the bathtub. He blinked, happy that Zim had apparently turned down the lights at least, and looked around. He was naked, covered in sticky pink splotches and Zim was sitting on the edge of the tub, appearing highly amused.

“What am I doing in the bathtub?” Dib asked, not sure he wanted to know.

“That was your bright idea for keeping the sheets clean while we burned through about a dozen orgasms each,” Zim replied. He shoved a glass and a tiny dish with pills at Dib’s face. “I brought you juice and something for your head.”

“Vicodin, I hope?” Dib asked, tossing the pills back and chugging the juice.

“Try ‘aspirin’, you drug addict.”

Dib set the glass down heavily on the side of the bathtub and flopped backwards. “Didn’t I stay hydrated last night?? I thought that was supposed to stop a hangover!” he moaned. “All it’s done is made me have to piss, and I don’t want to get up …” He gave Zim a sideways glance.

Zim, seeing exactly where this was going, reached over and quickly turned on the shower, triggering a downpour of chilly water from the ceiling. "You're absolutely disgusting."

“Zim!! What the fuck??” Dib yelled, scrambling to his feet.

“Clean up, get some hangover food in you, and you’ll feel better in no time,” Zim said as he sauntered out the door. Just as he disappeared from view, he stopped, spun around, and peeked back into the room. "And don't piss in the shower, you animal."

Dib poked his hand around the curtain to flip Zim off, and Zim ducked back out, cackling, before Dib could gather his wits enough to throw something.

He’d already cleaned up before he woke Dib up, so he pulled on some clothes and made his way out into the kitchen. It was early and Zim suspected Lard Nar was in a similar state to Dib, seeing as everything was still quiet. He decided to make his way out to the balcony, people watching from above the tiny university city.

As he watched the campus beneath him slowly come to life, he had rather mixed feelings. On the one hand, he’d adopted Earth as his home and he really had no good reason to leave it. On the other, in some parallel universe where the Empire had been defeated, Zim could see himself settling down on Vort with his family. Dib seemed happy here, far away from everything that had caused him agony back on his home planet. That alone was enough to make Zim seriously consider relocating, so long as the Empire was no longer a concern.

Zim’s phone chimed suddenly and he pulled it out, confused. There were really only three people who texted him. One was sobering up in the shower, one had already texted him to ask where the spare money for takeout was hidden, and the third … well, the third he hadn’t heard from in much too long.

He opened his messages and found one from Gaz.

“The yearly family dinner is coming up and, as usual, there’s an open invite to both Dib and you. If you want it.”

Zim stared at the message, uncertain. He and Gaz usually talked quite often. Not that Dib knew about it. He was pretty sure that Dib didn’t even know that Gaz had slipped him her number, back when he and Dib first started dating. “For emergencies,” she had said. Somehow, every little problem with Dib felt like an emergency, but she had indulged him and coached him through some of their more difficult moments.

Zim realized he’d fallen off the map a bit ever since things started going well. Between the exams and the sex, he just couldn’t seem to find a spare moment.

“Why do I have doubts that your dad wants to see me?” he wrote back. He had some pretty hard feelings for Professor Membrane, and a sneaking suspicion that they were mutual.

“He’s relieved that you’re taking care of Dib, you know. We both know you two don’t go anywhere without each other, and he’d rather have you both than not at all.”

Zim pictured showing up to the yearly Membrane family dinner twice as heavy as he used to be and clearly pregnant. Somehow he didn’t feel like that would go over well at all. Membrane would no doubt be all up in his business about how on earth _that_ had happened. What was Zim supposed to say?? He was trans? Intersex? The subject of a very successful medical experiment? He wasn’t sure he wanted Dib’s dad to know about the pregnancy either way. The man was a failure as a father so Zim didn’t have high hopes about his prospects as a grandparent.

“We’ll think about it. Things are a little complicated right now.”

He heard the door slide open behind him and shoved his phone quickly back into his pocket. He felt Dib sit down behind him and leaned back against his chest.

“Feeling better?” Zim asked.

“Much,” Dib said, shoving the rest of a protein bar in his mouth and wrapping his arms around Zim. “If Lard Nar is sleeping in, I want to head down to the beach once more before we leave.”

“Is your ass not sunburned enough??” Zim asked. “You’re about five shades darker than you were when we got here.”

“Yeah, and it’s _great_ ,” Dib said wistfully. “I love the way the sand feels under my feet, swimming out and then riding a wave all the way back in, the weightlessness when I’m swimming in water deeper than I am tall …”

“Okay, fine,” Zim conceded, standing up. “If it’ll stop you waxing poetic about it. Just bring something to drink. I don’t want you feeling sick the whole way back home because you got heat exhaustion.”

The rest of the morning passed much in the same way the last day of vacation tends to; Dib wanted to squeeze as much as he could out of his last day at the beach. He’d photographed nearly every creature he could find, collected a bucket load of shells and various other inorganic finds, had to be heavily dissuaded from attempting to bring a live sea creature home, and swam out to ride the waves back in, ad nauseam, until Zim literally pulled him from the surf. He dragged his feet on leaving and when they finally headed back for one final lunch with Lard Nar, Dib seemed pensive.

“It’s back to reality once we get home,” he said softly, looking at the grass as his feet sunk into it with every step. “We’ll be preparing for the smeets for real. I’ve read about a million texts on it by this point, but I’m still not sure I’m ready for the real thing.”

“Are you scared?” Zim asked.

“Yeah. A little,” Dib admitted. “We’re armed with knowledge but …” He shrugged. “It’s all uncharted territory, all the same. At this point … I just hope they love me, and I hope you and I make it out the other side of this okay.”

Zim took his hand and held it tightly. “I’ll never leave you, Dib. You’re my mate, and that means we always work things out. My love for you is bigger than any problem.”

Dib squeezed his hand. “Mine, too.”

As always, Lard Nar had food waiting for them once they arrived. Zim wondered if his old mentor tracked them and timed everything perfectly for their estimated time of arrival. He supposed that sort of thing was more likely than all of the conspiracy theories he had been concocting in his head. Perhaps Dib was right; someone had to sift through all the data, and it may as well be the President of Vort.

“You two are quieter than normal,” Lard Nar finally commented after being forced to watch them eat in complete silence.

“We’ve just got an awful lot of logistics to cover when we get home,” Zim said. “I have to sort out if I’m going to try to continue with university this semester, what with the smeets being due to hatch about a month in. Not that it really matters,” he added with a shrug. “There’s plenty I have the skills to do without an Earth degree, if I wanted to. At the moment, my bank account is bottomless so it’s hardly an issue. It’s mostly just about being close to Dib.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people more bonded than you are,” Lard Nar commented. “It’s like you’re in orbit.”

“We haven’t been apart since … wow, early on? Back in high school?” Dib ventured, looking at Zim.

“Back before we figured out I could sneak in through your window with no one the wiser,” Zim replied with a smirk.

“Irkens mate for life, but what about humans?” Lard Nar queried.

Dib cocked his head slightly. It struck him as an odd question to ask. “Not as a general rule. Monogamous pairings are more common, but even then, people tend to have a few partners before they find the one they want to settle down with,” he explained. “But for me with Zim …” He glanced over, unsure of how to summarize the complexity of their relationship. “I’ve always loved him,” he finally said. “I always knew it would be him or nobody. We’re similar in all the right ways. I think one of the reasons we succeeded at all was because we both needed each other.”

“When I think of the smeet I took under my wing all those years ago, I always knew he didn’t belong on Irk,” Lard Nar said, full of nostalgic reflection. “Things may not have gone as planned, but they sure did shake out in the end.”

"For you or for me?" Zim asked, holding tight to Dib's hand.

"For both of us," Lard Nar replied with a smile.

After lunch, they finally packed up all their belongings, with a few extra bags for Zim’s Vortian wardrobe and Dib’s beach haul. Lard Nar had allowed them to keep their tablets with the downloaded texts from the library, and had given them a drive with all of his own research. Dib said a rather emotional goodbye to their room while Zim grudgingly promised they could do a design overhaul on the base as soon as they arrived home.

They finally made their way down the elevator and back out onto the campus lawn.

Zim still had mixed feelings about Vort, but he was currently leaning towards actually missing it. Dib gave his hand a reassuring little squeeze as Lard Nar radioed up to the command tower to zap them back into the bay where their ship was stowed. Soon they would be home, safe and content in the knowledge that they were as prepared as they could possibly be for the smeets. That was really all either of them could ask for. 

“Alright, we’re cleared. Hold on,” Lard Nar said, a second before Zim felt himself blast into microscopic particles.

He was everything and nothing all at once, his body and Dib's momentarily mingling closer than ever. The feeling was as indescribable as it was fleeting, like being shown every wonder in the universe and then forgetting it in the blink of an eye. His body reassembled at the speed of light and he had his feet on solid ground, lungs gasping a mere second later.

“Shit, I may never get used to that,” he wheezed, blinking in the bright lights.

_Wait._

Something wasn’t right.

Far from the oversized warehouse he was expecting, his current surroundings were gleamingly white and sterile. He went to squeeze Dib’s hand for reassurance, but found only air.

His mind erupted in a loud, close, cacophony of utter chaos.

“Dib??” he shrieked, spinning towards Lard Nar. “What happened?? Something is wrong!! Dib is —”

He was suddenly slammed back against the nearest wall, his head feeling scrambled and his body refusing to listen as he attempted to put up a fight. PAK legs ... blaster ... nothing was working they way it was supposed to. Figures rushed towards him, but he couldn’t make sense of anything they were saying and his body was too heavy to move. Every sensation felt like it was being filtered through cotton. It was worse than being intoxicated last night had felt. He’d never felt as sick and discombobulated as he did now.

He was suddenly pulled from the wall, then strapped down before he could process enough of what was going on to react to it. Something was slipped over his head and secured tightly around his neck.

“What did I tell you about leaving the magnet on too long??”

“Sorry! We just wanted to make sure his defenses were disabled —”

“Are you running the interference signal?”

A hand tugged at the collar around Zim's neck.

“Yes …”

“Then unless you suck at your jobs, his defenses should be disabled. We’re not dealing with an enemy Irken. We’re dealing with a Defective who’s softer than you lot.”

Zim fought against his restraints but they held him so tightly he barely moved even a millimeter.

“Where’s my Dib??” he croaked out. “Don’t hurt him … please don’t hurt my Dib!! I’ll do whatever you want … just leave him alone …”

His vision finally resolved into something coherent, and he squinted against the bright lights.

“Lard Nar?” he asked, confused. All it once, every worry he'd had hit him at a million miles an hour. “No …" he whispered. "Fuck. _No!!!!_ ”

“I’m sorry, Zim,” the Vortian said softly, unable to face the betrayal in Zim’s eyes.

“What did you do to my mate??” Zim shrieked, panic ripping through his body. “Give him back!!! Please, I’ll do anything!! Just give him back to me!!”

“It’s okay, Zim …”

“Tell me what you did to Dib!!”

“We sent him back home,” Lard Nar said carefully. “To Earth.”

“ _What??_ ” Zim yelled, thrashing against his bonds. “You told me you had no idea if teleporting that far is even _safe_!! For all you know, you just _murdered_ my human!!!”

“Can you bring me that monitor, please?” Lard Nar called over his shoulder.

A screen floated into view, showing vitals and Dib’s eerily neutral ID photo.

“See?” Lard Nar said encouragingly. “He’s doing just — oh, he’s a little panicked,” he said as the heart rate suddenly jumped. “But he’s otherwise alive and well.”

Zim lay panting, muscles trembling. “What the fuck is going on here? And why won’t my PAK work??” he seethed.

“Your PAK has been disabled, for the time being. I was hoping that this might be the silver bullet we were looking for, but it took a highly individualized signal to disable only offensive tech and leave your life support functional.” Lard Nar sighed, radiating regret. “I’m sorry it had to be like this, Zim. I was being genuine when I said I cared for you as if you were my own offspring. It hurts me to know I’ve completely shattered that bond with you.”

“Not as much as I’m going to hurt you, you damned dirty _traitor_!!” Zim screeched.

Lard Nar looked away as Zim fought against his restraints. “I never wanted it to be like this. If we could have gotten the data we needed with Dib here, I never would have considered sending him away. But, well, we couldn’t, and you know as well as I do what the stakes are.”

Of course. The classic trolley problem. Is it ethical to divert a runaway trolley from the path with multiple, innocent civilians to the path with only one? A functional Irken wouldn’t care. No matter how many died, you could always grow more in test tubes to replace them. Humans -- and, Zim supposed, himself -- were somewhat unique in their ability to see this as a highly complex discussion. But to a Vortian, it all came down to numbers. The needs of the greater society outweighed the individual every time. 

And, unfortunately for Zim, he was only one person.

“There’s no need to cry over it, Zim,” Lard Nar said gently as Zim turned his head away, tears streaming down his face. “I’m not a monster. We’ll let you video chat with your mate as much as you like. And I’m true to my word; we aren’t going to harm you or the smeets or Dib. We just couldn’t have Dib messing up our data.”

Zim squeezed his eyes shut, no longer caring who heard him sobbing. Peals of heart-rending sorrow ripped from his chest and echoed through the halls as Zim was finally wheeled away. By the time he opened his eyes again, Lard Nar was nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You were warned, but I think that somehow made it worse.
> 
> Anyone recall the final music number from _Dr. Horrible_? The smash cut right at [the end?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZNqaAh6iLU) Yeah, it's the same sort of gut-punch.


	11. Loving the Animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being sent back to Earth alone, with no ability to contact Zim, Dib contracts a mysterious illness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ... took a lot out of me to write, and will probably take a lot out of you to read. I'm struggling with content warnings because I don't know the exact nature of people's triggers. There's one instance of Dib trying and failing to put an IV in (in part II), though it isn't described in detail. There are additionally two pretty intense nightmare sequences (VI & VIII). No guts/gore, just disturbing situations. Discussion of suicide in IX & X, parental death mention in X. For any emetophobes, don't worry -- there are no v* scenes.
> 
> I'm both proud and horrified of my work here. Before I started writing ZaDR fics, I was primarily into horror, and it's been good in a weird way to stretch my wings a little.
> 
> This is the ONLY chapter with no sex scene. It would not have vibed. I'll make up for it next chapter <3

_Now we're in the middle of the_   
_Rage and glory_   
_Asking where the hell it all went wrong_   
_"I love you"s quickly turning into_   
_"I'm so sorry"_   
_We're stuck inside the chorus of a song_

[\- Panicland, _The Edge_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3WD9fNB8loI)

* * *

_I._

Dib stood in the middle of the quiet street about a block from home. Wind gently rattled the trees like bones, the cold pinpricks of light that dotted them shifting like disquieted stars. The chill January air was a sudden shock to his system after having been, mere seconds prior, basking under the Vortian sun. It took him a moment to process where he was and that Zim’s hand was no longer in his.

He spun, hoping Zim had somehow ended up a short ways away, expecting him to run over at any moment, swearing and cursing out Lard Nar. Anything to make sense of why he had landed back on Earth, instead of in the bay where their ship sat, waiting for their return.

But no answer came, and Zim was nowhere to be found.

Dib didn’t shout. He took off, sneakers pounding the pavement, and sprinted towards home. The cold air cut his throat like knives and assaulted his lungs. By the time he reached the cul-de-sac he was sick to his stomach—

Dib snapped awake, dry heaving. His skin was chilled and soaked in sweat, sticking to the tiles of the bathroom floor. Both his shorts and his shirt had somehow ridden up. The towel he’d laid down to make things slightly more comfortable lay tangled at his feet. 

As soon as his stomach finally settled, he brushed his sweat-streaked hair from his face and reached for his phone. 

4:36am. 

He set it back on the counter and rubbed his aching temples. He’d now officially been home for more than 24 hours with no word from Zim.

He’d searched the entire base, called, texted, and then searched the neighborhood as snow fell around him. Around 12 hours after returning home — if one could really call the abrupt and unexpected arrival any sort of homecoming — the gnawing anxiety in his stomach had turned into a full blown illness. Dib was about ready to accept that he just lived in the bathroom now.

He tended to be pretty hardy, but the handful of times he’d been laid up with a cold or a migraine, he’d always had Zim to take care of him. Zim brought him food and kept him hydrated and generally did all the things that Dib was awful at doing for himself on a good day. No matter how sick he was, he always woke up to find Zim by his side or in his arms, snuggled against him.

Their relationship had had its ups and downs over the years, but Dib had come to realize that Zim was the one constant in his life. The one who was always there for him, no matter what shitty things Dib said or did to try and push him away. Zim always saw through his attempts to justify how unlovable he felt, and loved him that much more.

But now, Dib was left to his own devices, with no Zim and no explanation. And without Zim to take care of him, he was floundering.

To make things worse, he missed Zim so badly it _hurt_. Every time he thought about it, it sent him into a sobbing fit that didn’t help his already over-taxed abdominal muscles. He’d broken out the plushie Zim had given him before they started college, hugging it to his body in an effort to feel less alone. It smelled like Zim, if only faintly.

From the counter next to the sink, his phone suddenly vibrated. Dib groped for it blindly, then nearly dropped it when he saw who was trying to video call him. With shaking fingers, he hit “Accept”.

Zim appeared on the screen, dressed in a hospital gown and sitting in bed.

“You’re alive,” Dib choked out, almost reticent to believe his eyes. Would he wake up in a cold sweat on the floor again? Or maybe he’d finally lost it. “Oh my god … you’re actually alive …”

The fact that he couldn’t reach through the screen and pull Zim into an embrace caused him physical distress that was almost unbearable.

“Are you alright?” Zim asked, sounding like he was trying not to cry. “You look like you haven’t slept at all …”

Dib shook his head. “I’ve been really sick ever since I got back … I can’t even keep water down right now. I’m starting to think I caught something on Vort … Fuck, what am I even saying?? _Where are you?? What happened??_ We were supposed to go back to our ship but I ended up a block from home and I’ve been calling you and texting you and …!”

“Lard Nar sent you back alone on purpose,” Zim said, righteous anger simmering just under the surface. 

“ _WHAT_??” Dib roared, sitting up so fast he almost made himself sick again.

Zim squeezed his eyes shut. “I know … I know. He said he needed data where he could be sure you weren’t affecting the results.”

“The solution to that is _not_ to beam me all the way back to Earth without any warning,” Dib seethed. “Didn’t he say that shit was dangerous?? That I could end up a zillion atoms scattered on the wind?? Or half-phased into a building?? _Fuck_!! If I ever see him again, I’m going to strangle him with my bare hands.”

“Yeah … I’m not pleased, to say the least,” Zim said with quiet intensity. 

“Why didn’t you call me?” Dib asked tearfully. “I’ve been out of my mind worrying about you. I’m not even entirely convinced that _isn’t_ why I'm so sick!”

“They had me strapped down for half the day because all I did was scream at them at first. Lard Nar had my phone and wouldn’t give it to me until I finally cooperated with them,” Zim said softly. He sounded like his will had finally been broken.

“Why did no one tell me what the fuck was happening?? I searched _everywhere_ for you!” Dib cried.

“I know, Dib. I know you did …”

“Come home,” Dib begged. “Break out and come home, please!! I miss you so much …”

Zim gave him a pained look. “It’s a complicated situation. I can’t just leave. But they haven’t hurt me and … they just want to wrap up the data collection and then it’s done. It’s easier at this point to just comply. It’ll only be a few more days and then I’ll be back. I promise.”

“What the fuck is _wrong with you_??” Dib yelled, frustrated with his inability to do even a single thing to change their situation.

“Wrong with _me_??” Zim asked, taken aback. 

“This isn’t like you!! Break out. Come _home_ , Zim,” Dib begged. “It hurts so much to be away from you. I feel like I’m dying …”

“Dib … I can’t just leave …”

“Why the fuck _not_??”

“They’ve got my PAK jammed,” Zim admitted, sullen. “No PAK legs, no blaster … Somehow they used the signal from your chip to my PAK to meddle with it. So I’m stuck here for the time being. But I’ll be home soon. You just have to hang in there.”

“I don’t know if I’ll last a few more days without you,” Dib said, lip trembling. 

“I know … I miss you so much … Just hold on a little longer, okay?”

Dib nodded, trying hard to hold back the waterworks. Off-screen, he could hear someone talking to Zim. It was the first time, outside of when Lard Nar’s chip caused his implant to malfunction, that he had heard untranslated Vortian. The language was almost musical. Zim replied, and it sounded even better when he spoke it. It crossed Dib’s mind that he should ask Zim to speak Irken to him at some point while they were apart. Anything to make things slightly more novel and slightly less agonizing.

“I have to go for more tests, but I’ll call whenever I can,” Zim promised.

“Okay,” Dib said softly, guts twisting. 

Zim blew him a kiss. “I love you, Dib. More than you know and more than the light-years separating us.”

“Love you too, little bug,” Dib whispered, right before the screen flashed “Call Ended”.

* * *

_II._

Over the next 24 hours, Dib didn’t seem to get any better. He took calls from Zim every few hours, and by the end of the second earth day, Zim was thoroughly concerned about him.

“If you’re really so sick you can’t even keep water down, I hate to say it, but it might be time to go to a hospital,” Zim said reticently from his Vortian bedroom. Since he’d agreed to comply with all further testing, he’d been allowed back into the spare bedroom at his soon-to-be-permanently-estranged former mentor’s apartment. A small, blinking collar around his neck emitted the signal that jammed his PAK and ensured that he’d _stay_ compliant. 

“You know how I feel about hospitals, though … and what if I caught a Vortian tapeworm and I end up on an autopsy table, or I have some sort of weird flu and I cause a global pandemic??” Dib babbled, feeling his anxiety spike at the thought.

“You have a better chance of dying of dehydration than being dissected, Dib,” Zim said flatly. “And I never brought any weird diseases to Earth. I highly doubt you would, either. Vortians are meticulously clean.”

Dib shot him a skeptical look and Zim sighed.

“Or you could just grab a line and a saline bag and try to hook yourself up to a drip, but I don’t recommend it,” Zim cautioned. 

“What about GIR? Can he do it?”

Zim’s antennae vibrated above his head. “Now I _know_ I ought to be concerned if you’re genuinely thinking of trusting GIR with that sort of thing …”

“Okay, okay. I’ll do it myself,” Dib grumbled, staggering to his feet. That action alone made him feel like he was going to pass out. He stumbled his way down to the requisite lab with spots in his vision, dug out the equipment and let Zim walk him through the process. 

"Are you sure you don't want to just go see a professional?" Zim asked nervously as Dib rolled up his sleeve. "You've never even watched any of the times I've put one of those in you."

"Don't underestimate how much I hate doctors," Dib said darkly. "Alright, so I make a fist and then I just ..."

Zim watched with bated breath. “Nice and easy, just slide it on in …”

Dib’s hand trembled and the needle entered at an angle. Dib sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“That’s not in,” Zim said, concerned. “Dib, this seems like a bad idea …”

“No … I’ll try it again. I’ll get it. I have to,” Dib said, trying not to cry. 

He felt so awful. His vision blurred and his stomach burned. His hands shook and his muscles twitched at odd intervals. He could barely sit upright and his speech was getting slurred. More than once today, he had actually hallucinated that Zim was in the same room as him.

He tried five more times -- even attempting on his other arm -- before Zim stopped him. 

“That’s enough, Dib,” he said sternly. “You’re too sick for this. Even if you weren’t shaking and twitching all over, your veins are going to be hard to hit because you’re dehydrated and panicking. I’m sending you to the hospital.”

“You can’t send me anywhere,” Dib said obstinately.

One look from Zim suggested that _yes_ , he could, and he _absolutely_ would. 

“Alright. Fine. I will drive myself to the emergency department,” Dib said pointedly. As if operating a motor vehicle in his condition was any less of a terrible idea than attempting to hook up his own IV.

“That’s my boy,” Zim replied, relieved.

They said their goodbyes and Dib proceeded to pull on some pajama bottoms, toss his wallet and plushie Zim into his backpack, then very carefully drive himself to the nearest emergency department. Which, unfortunately, was a Membrane Labs-owned establishment. This fact made him even more anxious and leery than he’d normally be. During the time he’d been dating Zim, he’d had the privilege of never having to set foot inside a hospital for any reason. Not only was he terrified of the medical establishment, given how his father had weaponized it against him, but he was fiercely private. This made explaining his symptoms to the intake nurse a fraught situation, but he eventually managed to stammer out an explanation, obtain a printed wristband, and curl up on a chair while giving his body express instructions not to yak.

He held his backpack close, which he felt looked somehow less ridiculous than a grown man holding a plushie. He missed Zim with all of his heart and it took everything in him to hold back the tears he felt trying to leak from his eyes. If Zim were here, he’d already be hooked up to a drip, probably with something extra to kick the nausea so that Zim could snuggle up beside him and feed him crackers and ginger ale.

When he was finally called back for intake, he stood up slowly, like a baby deer, in an attempt to avoid blacking out. He trudged into the little exam room, cursing the barrier between him and receiving proper medical care. At least the intake nurse was friendly.

Dib detailed his symptoms but opted to leave out that he’d been off of earth; even when asked if he’s been out of the country he just gave a simple “Nope.” Everything seemed to be going smoothly until they asked him to pull up his hoodie for the blood pressure cuff. Dib watched as the Nurse’s entire demeanor changed upon seeing the mess that was the crook of his elbow.

“Um, I’m going to have to ask how long you’ve been off IV drugs,” the nurse said, sitting back down at his desk.

“Shit, no, that’s not what it looks like _at all_ ,” Dib insisted with a laugh. His addled brain scrambled for a logical excuse. “My partner is actually a doctor, but he’s out of town. So he was trying to walk me through putting an IV in but that … clearly didn’t work …”

“Mhmm …” the nurse said skeptically. “Any chance you might have quit anything, _anything_ at all, that could have you going through withdrawals?”

Dib stared blankly, trying to process _exactly_ _how_ _wrong_ things had suddenly gone. “You think I’m fucking dope-sick. Oh my god …” He angrily ran his fingers through his hair, which was unfortunately slick with sweat again.

“Would you be willing to submit to a drug panel?” the nurse asked in a tone that abruptly frayed Dib’s very last nerve. 

“I’m not on drugs!! I just caught food poisoning or something!” he shouted back angrily.

“I’m going to have to ask you to calm down …”

“I’m going to have to ask you to fuck off!” Dib yelled, abruptly standing up. His knees almost buckled as his vision tunneled but he lurched towards the door and threw it open. He caught himself on the doorframe and turned back, sweat dripping into his eyes. “If you’re thinking of attempting to bill me for this, call Professor Membrane and tell him that _his son_ requested the friends and family discount. I’m sure he’ll be interested in hearing why you treated me so poorly,” Dib said acidly before marching towards the front doors, desperately hoping that he passed out _after_ he could make his dramatic exit. The last thing he heard before he left was, “Wait, does Professor Membrane even _have_ a son??”

Dib knew his dad was fresh out of fucks to give about him. Actually, his dad probably assumed that both he and Zim had turned to a life of lawlessness and drugs. Dib wondered how well he would take the news that they were living comfortably in a house without a mortgage, doing well in school, and about to have 4 children.

Dib sat himself back in his car, and did the only thing he could think of … he called Zim.

“Dib? That doesn’t look like the inside of a hospital,” Zim said nervously once he’d picked up.

“I know … I went in, but they thought I was just detoxing from drugs,” Dib mumbled. “They weren’t gonna help me. So I left.”

“Dib …”

“I tried, Zim! I don’t have any energy left to make my case and I just … I just …” For the first time since they’d been apart, he finally dissolved into tears in front of his mate. “I miss you so much, I can barely function!! I wish you were here to take care of me because I fucking _suck_ at taking care of myself and I’m too tired to do anything and I feel like my heart is going to break without you!!”

Zim looked more than a little alarmed. “Shh-shh-shh it’s okay, Dib. I’ll be finished up here within the next two Earth days, and then they’re teleporting me and our ship back. They swear they’ve nailed the location this time,” Zim added under his breath with heavy skepticism.

“I don’t know if I’ll last that long!!” Dib wailed.

“Dib-Love …”

“Don’t start calling me pet names _now,_ Zim!! My heart can’t take it …”

“Dib … I’m missing you too, okay?” Zim said softly as Dib pulled out his plushie and sobbed quietly into it. “If I thought I had a chance of fighting my way out of here, I would. But I’m fat and pregnant and PAK-less, and Lard Nar is holding the first-gen PAK designs until we’re done. I have to think of the smeets …”

“Why aren’t you thinking of _me_??” Dib sobbed, looking pitiful.

Zim sighed. “I _am_ thinking of you, Dib. Every moment of every day,” he murmured. “Part of the reason why I call every chance I get is because, when I see your face, everything is so vivid that I can almost smell you.”

“You probably wouldn’t want to smell me right now,” Dib hiccupped.

“You’re _definitely_ getting a bath once I’m home,” Zim said with a sad chuckle. He watched as Dib tried to muffle his crying, to no avail. “I wish I was there to take care of you. It doesn’t look like you’re in any shape to drive yourself home …”

“I’m really not,” Dib sniffled. “I don’t even know what to do at this point. Everything makes me sick and I’m starting to freak out …”

“Look, Dib … hit the grocery on the way home. Pick up some freezy pops and a can of pumpkin, plus those motion sickness pills that make you sleep,” Zim instructed. “When you get home, set your phone to auto answer when I call so that I know you’re not dead. Get some easy calories into you and then sleep this off until I’m back, okay?”

“The hell is the pumpkin for?” Dib asked, sniffling pathetically.

“It’s good for upset stomachs.”

“Sounds fake.”

“Yeah, well, Google’s free, Dib,” Zim said, sounding tired.

Dib wiped his eyes on his sleeve, feeling absolutely pathetic. 

“Are you okay to get to the store and back home?” Zim asked. 

“Don’t really have a choice, so I guess so,” Dib muttered.

“I believe in you.”

“At least one of us does …”

“I’ll call you in an hour. Be brave for me, Dib. I love you.”

No possible existing language could put into words how much Dib loved Zim back, but he said it in English, because it was all he had. 

And then, abruptly, he was alone with himself yet again.

* * *

_III._

Zim was itching to pull out the papers he’d managed to extricate from the archives, but Lard Nar had him on such a tight leash, it was a miracle he had gotten any time away from the lab or apartment at all. As it was, he was sitting outside for the first time in days, trying to coax a winged lizard close enough to feed it some of his lunch. Dib would probably get a kick out of that, he thought.

His poor, sick human. Dib usually had an iron stomach, so the severity of his illness had Zim more worried than he let on. He was tempted to tell Dib to bandage up his arm, try another hospital and tell them he’d donated blood and was the victim of a first-time phlebotomist or something. Hopefully Dib would survive the next 48 or so hours or so until Zim could get back to earth.

He finished his sandwich and made his way back up to Lard Nar’s apartment.

“Can we fast track any of these tests?” Zim asked as he handed his plate over. “Dib’s really sick and he doesn’t have anyone to take care of him right now.”

“Truth be told, I was looking at his biometric data and noticed that a lot of things seemed off from the baseline,” Lard Nar said with slight concern.

“Could it have been the long-distance teleportation?” Zim asked nervously.

“I would have expected it to hit sooner if that were the case,” his mentor said skeptically. “I’ll keep an eye on his readings for you, though. If anything gets worse, we’ll cut the testing short and send you home immediately.”

Zim looked slightly shocked. “You’d really do that?”

Lard Nar looked almost hurt. “I know you think I’m all logic and reason with no emotional attachment, but I don’t want your mate to _die_ , Zim. That’s not something I’m willing to subject anyone to, but especially not you. I know that losing him would be a death sentence for you.”

Zim’s expression melted into something gentler. “Thank you,” he said softly. “He keeps talking about how much pain he’s in and … I’m worried. It might just be the fact that he’s so sick right now, but things seem to be hitting him a lot harder than they are me …”

“That’s abnormal?”

Zim could almost head Lard Nar mentally clicking a pen, ready to take notes on the entire exchange.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Zim admitted. “I’m usually the emotional one. There were a handful of times, early on in the relationship, where his father took him along for conferences and I had to stay behind. I don’t think there was a single time that I didn’t get in my ship and hunt him down. I couldn’t handle being apart for more than a few hours, but he was always fine. Now he’s … crying in his car because I’m not with him, and I miss him but it’s not killing me the way it normally would,” Zim finished, looking concerned. “I couldn’t have un-pair-bonded from him, could I?”

“If that’s even a thing, I’ve certainly never seen it,” Lard Nar replied.

Zim looked up, radiating weariness. He just wanted to go home to his Dib and finish building entirely new people in peace. The fact that he was currently being held prisoner -- albeit nicely -- on the other side of the galaxy from his mate was nothing less than absolutely ludicrous and he wanted someone, anyone, to at least attempt to justify this entire situation.

“What, exactly, was Dib interfering with?” he asked. He wondered if the answer he got would even remotely be the truth. He also wondered whether or not that really mattered.

“It would be easier to tell you what he _wasn’t_ interfering with,” Lard Nar said with a chuckle that Zim thought was wholly inappropriate for the situation. “Almost all your systems were synchronized. It was impossible to tease apart what things were Zim and which were Dib.” He looked up at the wall clock. "Speaking of, you should give him a quick call before the next round of tests.”

Zim wandered off down the hall and back to his room. He had never felt more completely and utterly defeated. All of his agency had been stripped from him. He’d been rendered defenseless. He was being held hostage by the promise that if he just complied, everything would be okay. And he absolutely hated himself for caving as quickly as he did. He hated himself for being useless and he wanted so badly to hate Lard Nar for using the smeets as leverage. 

And yet, he couldn’t even muster up the rage the Lard Nar likely deserved. The Vortian still clearly felt a paternal instinct towards him and Zim found it to be thoroughly disarming whenever they were in the same room. The more Lard Nar talked, the more sense things made and the less he felt compelled to make the Vortian's life difficult. After all, this was for the greater good, right?

He pulled out his phone, took a deep breath, and prepared to pour out what little love and energy he still had in reserve into his sickly mate.

* * *

_IV._

“I love you, Dib. Only a little longer until I’m back.”

Dib’s room suddenly blinked into existence. Zim was standing in the doorway, which felt further from him than normal. His purple Vortian dress fluttered in the nonexistent breeze.

“Until you’re back? But you’re right there …” Dib said, confused. 

He stood up and the room stretched, putting Zim further and further away.

“I have to go, but I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Zim!! Come back!! Something’s … not right …”

What was it? Something was off. He could feel the shape of it but the words were missing, the idea laying half-formed in the dark recesses of his mind.

“Shh, it’s okay, Dib. Go back to sleep. I’ll be back before you know it.”

With nothing else to pull his consciousness towards wakefulness, Dib fell sideways into bed and faded back to sleep.

* * *

_V_.

“Still asleep, eh?”

Zim was sitting on his bed this time. Dib wanted to reach out and touch him but he was afraid the universe would fracture into a million pieces, leaving them adrift from each other like ice floes. He'd never get his Zim back if that happened.

“I’m awake … what are you talking about?” Dib said as Zim appeared to stare right through him.

Zim smoothed out his blankets. “Hopefully you’ll just sleep through the next day and wake up with me next to you in bed. That’s how I’d like to surprise you.”

“But you’re here right now …” Dib reiterated, getting more and more frustrated by the second. Why wasn't Zim listening to him?

Zim leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against Dib’s skin.

The kiss on his forehead felt more real than anything had in the past two days. He reached for Zim’s hand and missed; Zim was already at the door again, standing on the threshold of the yawning darkness that made up the hallway.

“Don’t go!!” Dib shouted.

“It’s okay, Dib. You’re going to be alright. I’ll call you as soon as I can.” Zim stepped into the darkness and vanished.

Something deep and nameless broke in Dib’s heart, but his mind faded into silence before he could make sense of it.

* * *

VI.

Darkness.

Dib blinked a few times to make sure his eyes were really open, but impenetrable, inky blackness spread out into the distance around him. 

Soft sobbing echoed around the cavernous space as the steady _drip, drip_ of water made up the auditory backdrop. Dib went to move his feet and found that he was standing in an inch or so of water, seeping into his shoes. From one single, solitary corner of the room, a soft, blue, sourceless light illuminated a crumpled figure sitting in the water on the ground. Its legs appeared to be pulled up to its chest and its arms were crossed over its bowed head.

“Zim?” Dib said softly as he sloshed through the puddle that made up the floor.

“I lost them …” Zim’s voice whispered, emotionless. It seemed at odds with the sobbing he had heard only seconds ago, like all the soul had disappeared from his voice.

“Lost … who?” Dib asked, his stomach making a slow descent into his boots. He knew the answer before Zim even replied.

“The smeets …”

“What do you mean, you lost them?” Dib heard himself say. He was watching himself from the other side of the room now.

“It’s not my fault … They came out all wrong. _Broken_. I tried, Dib, but this world crept up and whisked them away as quickly as they’d entered it. They were defective,” the voice said softly, as if the realization were slowly dawning on them. “Like me. Like … _you_.”

The figure stood to its full height in extended PAK legs, the glowing panels on its PAK revealing the headless corpse of an Irken suspended above the ground. Water sluiced down its legs and dripped from its toes. As Dib’s horrified gaze travelled upwards, its lifeless fingers suddenly twitched. Dib stumbled backwards just in time to avoid being grabbed when the figure spun to face him and its arms suddenly lunged for his throat. 

Dib turned and ran but the water was getting deeper. It was up to his knees now and his assailant was quick on his heels. He could hear the PAK legs clicking on the floor behind him, closer every second.

“You’re _broken_ , Dib!” Zim’s voice screeched from behind him. “Let me end your suffering! Snuff out the hurt! It couldn’t possibly be half as bad as all of the twisted things you’ve done to yourself!”

Dib slipped and abruptly fell headlong into water, sliding along the floor and scrambling to get his limbs beneath him. Before he could even stand back up, a three-fingered hand grabbed him by the shirt and hoisted him skywards.

“Poor Dib,” Zim whispered, and it was as if the sound were coming directly from Dib’s brain, hijacking his neurons and making every single one of them scream. “How many times did I patch you up? Sew you back together, only for you to unravel again?”

Dib kicked out but his legs only found air. 

“I even put a chip in your brain, but that couldn’t fix you either … maybe if _one_ of us weren’t broken, the smeets would have come out whole …”

The floor beneath them suddenly dropped out and Dib fell through the air, twisting, before he splashed into the water below and was sucked under as it rushed in and down. There was a thunderous roar in his ears and then, suddenly …

Nothing. 

* * *

_VII._

“I’m going to be off the grid for the next ten hours or so.”

Zim was sitting at the foot of Dib’s bed, looking at him lovingly.

Dib waved his hand and snapped his fingers. Zim didn’t react to any of it. 

“What does it matter?” Dib grumbled. “You can’t hear me, anyway …”

“Shh-shh … I know, I know,” Zim soothed, rubbing his foot through the blanket. “They want to run a battery of neurological tests on me. I suspect … ugh. I suspect everything is bugged, so I guess I’ll tell you later. Not that it matters. I’m an R&D project, just like I was always afraid of.”

“We’re both Defective, Zim,” Dib whispered, staring out the window. “It’s just a matter of time before I find myself wired up like a Christmas tree while they try to determine what’s shorting the rest of me out.”

Zim just smiled as if he hadn’t said a word. 

“I can't wait to hold you again. Every time I talk to you, I feel like you’re here. And when I have to leave … it’s starting to physically hurt. But I’ll get through these next ten hours for you.”

A sudden, horrible realization hit Dib out of nowhere. And this time, he had the words for it. 

“I know what they’re looking for,” he said urgently.

“I hope I’ll be there when you wake up.”

“No. Zim. _Listen._ They’re trying to break us.”

“Sweet dreams, Dib.”

“No!! Zim!! You don’t understand!” he shrieked as Zim began to fade. “We were _bonded_ and they’re trying to tear us apart!!!”

“I love you.”

Dib stared at the spot where Zim had been just moments earlier. He reached down and the quilt was freezing cold. 

“... I don’t even know what’s real anymore.”

* * *

_VIII._

_Crack_.

Dib was standing in the bathroom, pink goo coating the tile floor. His eyes swiveled to Zim, who was sitting In the corner with his back to Dib. He held a large, spotted egg with cracks running down its sides in his hands. Dib’s breath caught in his throat as Zim lifted it into the air and smashed it hard against the tile, where it finally shattered. With shaking hands, he brushed aside the fractured fragments and pulled out a tiny, limp body.

“They wouldn’t come out, Dib,” Zim said, his voice frail and reedy. It sounded like the last vestiges or sanity were bleeding out of him as he spoke, disappearing like smoke on the breeze. “They wouldn’t come out, so I had to help them.”

Zim laid the little body against his shoulder, nuzzling it. His movements were slow and uncoordinated, as if he were unfamiliar with his own body.

“They’re … they’re _dead_ , Zim,” Dib whispered, mouth going dry as the creeping horror of the realization dawned on him.

Zim froze, then slowly shook his head. “No … no … they’re just sleeping.”

Dib took a tenuous step forward.

“They’re all just sleeping … they’ll be fine … they’ll be fine when they wake up … wake up … wake up ...”

Zim cradled the smeet in his arms, rocking it as its head lolled to the side and its arms swung limply. Dib felt bile rising in his throat the longer he watched Zim dote on the tiny, soulless husk.

“Just sleeping … they’re all just sleeping,” Zim sang, high and fragile, as he plucked up three more little bodies from his lap and cradled them in his arms. “Everything will be fine … they just have to wake up …”

Dib took a step forward, unable to bear the sight a moment longer and determined to put a stop to the entire macabre charade. 

“Put them down, Zim,” he insisted. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“ _They’re not Defective!_ ” Zim snapped.

The sudden change in tone made Dib retreat backwards in alarm. “I … didn’t say they were,” he replied carefully.

“They’re not … _we_ didn’t make Defective smeets.” Zim rocked back and forth, his back still to Dib as he delicately stroked the smeet’s antennae. “Not me, not _me_ … _I’m_ not Defective … No. Not Zim. Not Zim, no … if they’re Defective, it’s because of _you_.”

Dib felt like a lump of ice had just formed in his stomach. “Me?”

“ _You_. Defective Dib … broken because your father never loved you …”

Dib felt dizzy and watched the tile undulate like a stormy sea. “Stop,” he said forcefully, bracing himself against the doorframe.

“Do you even _know_ how to love?” Zim whispered. 

“Of course I do,” Dib said hoarsely. “I love you, don’t I?”

Zim let out a mirthless laugh. “I don’t know, Dib. _Do you_?”

Dib felt his soul shatter. “I _do_ , Zim. I love you so much. You’re my mate …” he said tearfully. 

“You’re broken,” Zim replied simply. “You’ve _hurt_ me. You’ve pushed me around. You’ve committed serial consent violations …” He laughed joylessly. “Some might even call it _rape_.”

Dib backed up, eyes wide. “That’s not … I didn’t … Zim. _Please_. You have to know that I didn’t mean to …”

“You’re broken, Dib. It’s not even worth trying to fix all the things wrong in your head. I should know. I _did_ try. But there was no way to make that chip in your head _actually fix you_. It was hopeless from the start. I don’t even know why I humored the notion that you might be fixable ...”

Dib sunk to the floor, hands over his ears, shaking his head. Tears blurred his vision and, despite having his palms pressed flat against the sides of his head, he could still hear Zim with perfect clarity.

“You broke our children, Dib.” Zim shakily stood up, back still turned.

“No!!” Dib shouted, heart breaking. “No no no … I didn’t want them to be like me!!”

“You break everything you touch.”

“Please, _please_ stop!!” Dib begged, sobbing.

“You thought you could just make yourself a family and start over?” Zim asked, a level of cruelty in his voice that Dib had never before heard.

“I wanted a _life_ with you!!” Dib cried.

Zim scoffed. “You'll be the _death_ of me. You’ll be the death of all of us.”

Zim turned and his body and all of the smeets in his arms had already begun to skeletonize, flesh melting off the bones. Dib held a hand to his mouth, eyes wide as tears flowed ceaselessly down his cheeks. He couldn’t look away.

“You did this, Dib,” Zim said, even though his tongue and lips had long since disintegrated. “I _never_ would have gone through with this if you hadn’t pushed me to.”

Dib stood frozen, sobbing as he watched his mate and lover and closest friend reduced to nothing more than bleached-white bones, without even so much as sinew to hold it all together. Their bones fell slowly, like feathers, and turned to ash before they could hit the floor, blowing away out the open window and into a starless night.

A distant screech rattled Dib and he turned to search for its source —

Dib woke up as his face smashed into the floor, tangled in his sheets and screaming. He scrambled to sit upright and was both relieved and horrified to find himself on the floor of the bedroom he shared with Zim on Earth. His clothes were soaked in sweat and he shivered against the cold night air. Slowly, he disentangled himself and sat up, trying to collect himself. He reached up on the bedside table for his phone and hurriedly looked through his texts. Zim had last texted at 6:30am, saying he’d be out of contact for the next 10 hours. He’d sent it with copious purple hearts and the “I love you” ASL hand sign, just in case Dib doubted his sincerity. That was slightly over an hour ago. 

Dib’s mind raced. His brain had been sorting through things as he slept. He’d figured something out … what was it? When he tried to pull up the string of thoughts that led to the conclusion, all he got was a loud, neon-colored tangle of emotions. Only two words kept flashing through it all:

_I can’t._

The smeets. Zim’s pregnancy. It was all a huge mistake. Dib couldn’t make sense of what he had been thinking that had ever led him to think this was a bright idea.

He suddenly felt like couldn’t breathe.

What was he going to do?? Zim would be back _today_. Was he really going to ask Zim to just … _end things?_ After everything they’d been through?

But he couldn’t go through with this. If the smeets came out broken … wrong … defective? And, really, even if they were fine, what if either he or Zim snapped? Postpartum psychosis was unfortunately a _very real_ phenomenon. Lack of sleep could tease out latent mental illness. Make a person lose it. Drown the kids in the bathtub while whispering, “Shhh, they’re only sleeping …” How much stress, how many all-nighters stood between either of them and _that_ outcome?

Dib’s brain was a whirlwind of thought and emotion that he couldn’t begin to untangle on his own. There was only one person he could think of to contact in the moment. He wouldn’t have ever considered it if he weren’t completely freaking out.

He pulled up Gaz in his messages and was surprised to find that he had missed a text from the day before.

“Yearly dinner is tonight. Nobody expects you but it would be nice if you showed for once. Zim’s more than welcome. Dad’s excited to hear that you switched to astronomy and he wants to help you get into a research program this summer.”

He groaned. Great. Now he had to ask to meet up in the shadow of _that._ What choice did he have at this point, though?

“Sorry I missed this. I’ve been sick since —”

He stopped typing. What fucking day was it? He checked his calendar. 

January 4th.

He’d been home and completely out of commission for 3 days. 

“— Tuesday and the meds I took made me sleep for 20 hours straight. I need to talk to you though. Can you meet me for coffee?”

He hit send, disentangled himself from the sheets, and went to shower 72 hours worth of filth from his skin. He had a sneaking suspicion that one shower might not be enough.

* * *

IX.

Dib made his way towards the university coffee shop, anxiety pricking across his skin. At least he was finally feeling better. His fever had broken and he’d been able to get some toast and juice into him for the first time in days. He was feeling shockingly cogent for someone who had spent the past 24 hours fading in and out of consciousness. 

He hadn’t spoken to Gaz in person since the day of his last suicide attempt and their text conversations had gone from sparse to spotty to almost nonexistent in the ensuing year and a half. Gaz put in the effort every now and then, but Dib felt more and more like a disappointment every time they spoke, and gradually ghosted her.

So when he walked into the coffee shop and spotted her in the back corner, he had no idea what to expect.

She looked up and waved him over, seeming amicable enough.

“Are you still contagious? You look … rough,” Gaz said skeptically as he sat down across from her. “Also I bought you a raspberry hot chocolate. Sounded like it might be easier on you than coffee.”

“Thanks. And I’ll try not to breathe on you,” Dib said, eyes averted. “I don’t even know if I’m contagious since I don’t know what caused me to be so sick in the first place. Could have been anything from food poisoning to the effects of being teleported clear across the galaxy.”

If Gaz was shocked by that statement, she didn’t show it. She merely raised her eyebrows quizzically. “Never a boring day in the Zim household, huh?”

“You have no idea …” Dib mumbled. 

He sipped at his drink to fill the silence that had suddenly yawned between them like a chasm. 

“We missed you yesterday,” Gaz said quietly, staring out the window. 

“Still?” Dib asked skeptically. “I figured you’d be used to it by now. Or … okay, maybe not you. But dad at least.”

“He was really happy to hear you’d switched to astronomy.”

Dib scoffed, old anger born anew and seeping out of psychic wounds. “Conditional love, as usual.”

Gaz looked back at him, frustrated. “Did you bring me here just to bitch about dad? Because if that’s all you want to do, I’m just going to leave.”

“No, wait!” Dib said hastily as she went to stand up. 

She gave him a withering look but grudgingly sat back down. “Alright. Fine. What is it, then?”

Dib abruptly felt an anxiety attack coming on. “There’s no good way to segue into this …” he started, attempting to soften the blow.

“Then don’t segue. Just tell me,” Gaz said, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“Zim’s pregnant,” Dib blurted. 

Gaz somehow managed to both spit coffee across the table and inhale the rest of it. Dib rushed to clean off the table, grabbing a fistful of napkins and trying to look busy until Gaz regained her composure. When she finally got her breath back, she shot Dib a severe look. 

“Tell me I didn’t hear you say what I thought I heard,” she whispered darkly. 

Dib nervously met her gaze. “No, you did … Zim’s really pregnant.”

Gaz darted forwards and smacked him over the head. “You idiots!! I know you both had sex ed! How the fuck could you let this happen??”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dib hissed, dodging out of reach. “They must have added the chapter on what to do when having sex with genetically modified cyborg alien boyfriend _after_ I graduated!” He sat back in his chair, arms crossed and glowering. “Besides … Zim _has_ the equipment needed to just … make this whole problem go away. He decided not to.” The moment the words left his mouth he looked deeply disturbed, then corrected himself. “ _We. We_ decided not to,” he said hastily. 

Gaz raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

Dib pretended to watch some other patrons on the opposite side of the room. “We _did_. I mean, at least at first,” he replied quietly. “I thought it might be kind of nice. I love Zim and the thought of having a family with him … I don’t know. Maybe I could do everything right that was done wrong with me.”

Gaz groaned. “You can’t have kids just to live vicariously through them, Dib.”

“I know … believe me, I do. And now I’m just so scared I’m going to fuck it up. I was _so_ sure I wanted it and could do it and now I … I just don’t want to,” he finished lamely. 

“Too bad,” Gaz hissed at him, making him move further back in his seat. 

She glared at him a moment longer, then took a long sip of her drink that only gave Dib time to feel worse about himself.

“Where is he? You two are usually glued at the hip,” she said suspiciously. 

“That’s kind of a long story …”

“I’ve got nothing but time.”

“Okay. Fine.” Dib slumped backwards. “When we found out Zim was pregnant, we were at a total loss. These would be the first Irkens in god only knows how long to _not_ come out of a test tube. We didn’t know what they’d need. So the plan was to go to Vort, which has the galaxy’s most complete library. Like, this place has information going back _thousands_ of years. It’s bonkers. We thought it was going to be under Irken control but when we got there, it was back in the hands of the Vortians, and the planet was being led by Zim’s old mentor. Which sounds great, right?”

Dib took an agitated swig of his drink, blind to the strange glances he was starting to get. “Except we stupidly made a deal to let him study us in exchange for access to the library. On the day we were supposed to go home, they beamed me back here and kept Zim for additional testing. Something about me fucking up the results. I don’t really know.”

Gaz gave him an odd look. 

“It doesn’t make sense to me either, okay?” Dib grumbled. “Anyway. They keep him. I get nailed with the stomach flu from hell a few hours later. I was totally useless until this morning when I woke up and …” He finally looked up at Gaz. “It’s like a fog lifted. I’m seeing clearer now than I ever did before. About what a _stupid_ idea this was and how we aren’t even remotely prepared for kids. And now Zim is coming back in like 8 hours and I have to figure out how to tell him that … that I _can’t do this_.”

He was hoping for an iota of sympathy for his position, but Gaz looked thoroughly pissed and a touch revolted.

“You can’t just back out of something you agreed to go through with when it affects other people like that,” she said, as if having to explain this fact was dropping the IQ of everyone in the room. 

“But I … fuck, Gaz …” He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose nervously. “The fucking _nightmares_ I had about our kids being fucked up … because of me! I don’t even know where to begin. The possibility is too frightening for me to just charge on forwards and overlook it.”

Gaz gave him a thoroughly disgusted look. “Are you even really scared you’re going to pass along some genetic fuckery, or is that just the excuse you tell yourself so you don’t have to admit that you’re a coward?”

“I …” Dib struggled to find a response but the words were all jumbled up and out of order. Too much was going on in his head and he was starting to feel woozy and a little ill again. He tried to fire back a retort, but his mouth wouldn’t work. He stared wordlessly at Gaz, who gave him a frustrated “ _I’m_ _ **waiting**_ _…”_ gesture.

His mind blanked and he abruptly stood up, grabbed his coat, and headed for the exit.

“Dib!! You don’t get to go non-verbal on me! Get the fuck back h—”

The door shut before she could finish her sentence and Dib was already headed down the street.

* * *

_X._

“Zim, I love you. A lot. I need you to know that, no matter what, I still love you a lot. But this pregnancy? It was a _massive mistake._ But it’s not too late to undo it, so maybe you could …”

Dib trailed off. Could do what, exactly?

_… Just get rid of them?_

“ _Ugh, no!_... fuck!”

Dib threw a punch at the wall and immediately regretted it. Four inches of solid titanium refused to dent and nearly shattered his knuckles.

“Ow! Shit!!” 

He shook his hand out frantically before collapsing in an agitated heap. His talk with Gaz had gone horribly. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been frustrated and panicked and overwhelmed enough to lose his ability to speak. And he still couldn’t string together the words to break his change of heart to Zim. He knew that he had to act fast if he was going to get his point across. The longer he was in the room with Zim, the higher the chance that he would bail and just have to suck it up and live with the consequences. Preferably, he was going to need to get as much room as possible between himself and Zim if this was really going to happen.

There were too many variables and too many unknowns and it was starting to look like he was just going to have to shout it and run before Zim had time to process anything. It was cowardly. Everything about this felt cowardly, but thinking about all the ways in which things could go wrong filled him with abject terror. All he could think about was his kids being broken and it being entirely his fault, or the stress of everything making Zim snap and there being nothing he could do about it.

A clang from the adjacent lab and ship bay told him that his time had officially run out. He stood up, ready to face the music. 

The door opened and there was Zim, pale and worn out. He looked like he hadn’t really slept while he was away. But the moment he laid eyes on Dib, he broke out into a relieved smile. Dib felt his own body relaxing, pulled to Zim by some unseeable, unknowable force. He wanted to fall into Zim’s arms, have Zim tell him that everything was going to be okay, and the nightmares were just that; his brain processing his fears and nothing to do with the actual reality of the situation.

“My Dib!”

He wanted all of that so badly, but —

“We need to talk.” 

The words tumbled from his mouth before he could even think. 

Zim’s eyes went wide, his face suddenly frozen between eagerness and confusion. “Uh, excuse me?? I just got back and _that’s_ what you decide to lead with??” Zim asked, looking utterly bewildered

Dib knew he had to say it now, while Zim was still across the room and before he lost his nerve.

“I … yeah … because I’ve been thinking, you know … and I realized I … Uh. Well, I made a mistake,” Dib said hastily, stumbling over his words.

“What?? _What_ mistake??” Zim suddenly looked panicked. “Are you alright? Are you spiking a fever again? Because you’re not making any sense—”

“I’m fine!” Dib shouted desperately, cutting him off. “I’m good. Great. I feel better than ever. And it’s given me the clarity to finally realize that … that I can’t do this,” he admitted. “The pregnancy. The parenting … I can’t do it. Really, _we shouldn’t_ be doing this. We’re not even halfway through college, I don’t have any positive parental role models, you don’t even _have any parents_ … how the fuck are we expecting to take care of four alien hybrid children??”

Zim stared at him blankly. “Okay, I have _no idea_ what’s going on with you, but you’ve been sick for three days straight and —”

“I’m _fine_ now,” Dib insisted, taking a step backwards as Zim approached him.

“I think you need to go to the hospital,” Zim said gently. “You’re hysterical and you’re not making any sense.”

“I’m making _perfect_ sense! If you would _just listen_ …!”

“So what the _fuck_ is going on here??” Zim demanded.

“I really can’t go through with this pregnancy, Zim,” Dib said, wide-eyed and nervous. “I can’t be a parent. I can’t do this.”

“Well, what the hell am _I_ supposed to do, then?? I can’t do this without you!” 

Dib didn’t know if Zim sounded more scared or angry.

“Can’t you just … nip it in the bud now?” Dib asked quietly. “It’s still early … it’d probably be fine …”

Zim put his face in his hands, struggling to get a grip on himself before he replied. “Dib, I am not going to sit here and have a moral argument with you over this. It’s not a moral debate. It’s not a debate at all! It’s my body and my smeets and … I want to meet them!” he yelled, holding back tears. “If you’re seriously going to sit here and tell me you’ll only stick around if I _get rid of them_ … Then you can take your shitty fucking attitude and get the hell out.”

Zim glared and Dib just stared back, gobsmacked.

“Are you seriously kicking me out of my own house right now??”

“It’s _my base_ and yes!” Zim was _really_ yelling now. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to resort to yelling at Dib. They’d been doing so well these past few months. How did they end up back at _yelling_? Dib retreated into the hallway and Zim followed him, seething.

“Where the fuck am I supposed to go?? You know my dad won’t take me back!” Dib squeaked out, finally starting to look panicked as Zim backed him up to the stairs. 

Zim crossed his arms. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is this an _inconvenient time for you_? Would you have maybe liked a little warning?” he asked with biting sarcasm.

Dib just stared, slack jawed.

“What did you expect the outcome of this to be??” Zim asked, angry and bewildered.

“I-I just … I thought that …”

“Ugh, you know what?” Zim said, thoroughly done with the whole thing. “I don’t care. I don’t even want to look at you right now. Just get the fuck out.”

“Are you even going to let me get my shit or are you just booting me out on the street?”

“I want you to get the fuck out and not come back until you can take responsibility for your actions!” 

Zim walked angrily towards Dib and Dib backed up nervously. Zim wouldn’t seriously instigate a physical altercation while heavily pregnant, would he?

Zim grabbed the front of his shirt, and for a horrifying second, Dib teetered on the edge of the stairs. The only thing preventing him from plummeting down the staircase backwards was the handful of fabric clenched in Zim's angry fist.

“... You wouldn’t,” he whispered, wide eyes locked on a seething Zim.

He watched as Zim’s eyes glanced down the stairs and then back up to a terrified Dib. His antennae drooped behind his head and he yanked Dib forwards, then spun and turned back to the bedroom. Dib stumbled forwards and scrambled to his feet.

“Get out before I change my mind,” Zim hissed, right before he slammed the door.

Dazed, Dib wandered down the steps, through the living room, and out the front door. The abrupt chill when he stepped outside reminded him that it was January, but when he went to open the door again, he found it locked. He stood there, staring at it for what felt like a very long while, attempting to process the last few minutes.

What the hell had just happened?

He shook his head, trying to figure out what to do next. He didn’t hear the lawn flamingos charging their lasers, but he also thought it was a poor decision to sit around much longer and test Zim’s patience. He scurried off onto the street and pulled his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his pathetically short contact list. Now would be a great time to have actually bothered to make friends with literally anyone who wasn't Zim. As it was, there was really only one person who might be able to lend him a couch to crash on. But he was definitely going to get an earful over it.

The phone rang just once before the line picked up.

“Dib?” came Gaz’s confused voice on the other end.

“Yeah, the one and only. Look … um … I hate to ask this, but can I crash at your place for … shit. I don’t even know. A few days, at least?”

Gaz groaned. “What did you do?”

Dib’s mouth went dry. How was he going to even begin to explain things?

“Actually, never mind that. _Yes,_ but I’m also calling Zim to ask him what the hell you did. Text me when you get here.” She hung up without so much as a _bye_.

Dib shoved his phone back in his pocket and started towards Gaz’s place. He was pretty sure she’d gotten a house on the complete opposite side of campus from his on purpose, though he still wasn’t sure why she didn’t just commit and go to school across the country. Their dad would have bought a house for her anywhere and paid all the fees for a private university education. He knew this because all of that was _supposed to be his_. Not that he really wanted it at the expense of having to be under his father’s thumb.

Gaz’s house was a small, ranch-style dwelling that Dib was surprised hadn’t already been painted black and outfitted with barbed wire. There were a number of trees between it and the road, and a longer-than-normal driveway up to the front that Dib was sure she had chosen to dissuade people from ambling up to the door. Dib, himself, was feeling dissuaded from doing exactly just that. He stood at the end of the driveway for a solid minute, trying to decide if it would be better to just call up a rideshare and get a hotel for a few nights.

Eventually, though, he made his way to the front porch and texted her that he had arrived.

The door opened seconds later.

“No, Zim. You’re in the right. Dib is being a little shit.” She looked Dib in the eyes, phone at her ear as she said it. He stared at her, thoroughly unsure if he should just go find a nice park bench to stake out for the next couple days, but she motioned him inside, still conversing with Zim over the phone. “Well, you also need space for _you_ to make sure you’re doing what you want. Hard to do that with someone in your face … mhmm … yeah, I’m sure he is. And, speak of the devil, he just slunk in with his tail between his legs.”

“I did not--”

“Want me to rough him up a bit for you? … No? Okay. I’ll be sure to tell him you’re nicer than I am. And hey, text me if you need anything. Since you’re … with child? With smeet? … Yeah, no problem … Okay. Bye.”

Dib crossed his arms. “Oh, sure. _He_ gets a ‘bye’.”

Gaz turned to face him, looking severely pissed off. “ _You_ do not get to lecture anyone about niceties. Fucking threatening to walk out on your pregnant boyfriend …” She gestured wildly in frustration. “What is _wrong with you??”_

"I never said I was walking out!" Dib volleyed defensively.

"Yeah. Sure. You just said you needed him to 'nip it in the bud'," Gaz replied coldly.

“Since when do you have Zim’s number?” Dib snapped, deflecting. “Hell, since when do you two _talk_??”

Gaz flopped onto the couch, leaning her head over the back so she didn’t have to look at Dib any longer. “I’ve had his number since the two of you started dating. I was worried you were going to do something illegal to him and I wanted him to have at least _one_ emergency contact.” She popped her head back up; it didn’t look like she was joking. “We text all the time. Just because _you_ cut off your family doesn’t mean he’s required to.”

“I didn’t _cut you off,_ Gaz—”

“You cut dad off.”

“ _Yeah_. Because he was terrible to me and he told me he never wanted to see my face in his house again!” Dib exclaimed. “You … just ended up kind of being collateral damage.” His shoulders slumped and he looked genuinely tortured. “I’m sorry about that. I’ve been trying to get you back in my life but I don’t know how.”

“Well, getting kicked out of your own house for telling your boyfriend to abort your kids so you’ll stay around is _so_ not the way to do it. I’m only letting you stay here so I can try to slap some sense into you.”

“I _didn’t_ … that’s _not_ … _why_ do you even _care about_ any of this??” Dib asked, flustered.

Gaz gave him an absolutely flabbergasted look. “Weren’t you the one who was all invested in studying him for all those years??”

“Since we ended up _dating instead,_ I don’t think I need to tell you how that one went! What is your goddamned point??”

“Oh my god,” she groaned, flopping back over the back of the couch. “Do you know what he kept calling you, when I talked with him earlier?”

Dib didn’t even need to guess. “His _mate_ …” he grumbled. “That’s not new. He’s been saying that for years now.” 

“I'm aware. But do you know what kind of _connotations_ that has for him?”

“Do _you_?” Dib asked with more irritation than he meant.

“Fucking _hell_ , Dib … you’re _not_ the only one he ever talks to, okay? Zim’s my _friend_. I’m sorry your oblivious ass never picked up on that, but that's not my fault. Back to the point; I know that Zim sees you as the only partner he’s ever going to have and you should _not_ be taking _any_ of that lightly.”

Dib rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You are _really_ starting to insert yourself in places you’ve got no business being.”

“Why?” Gaz asked, gaze steely. “Because I’m _only_ a human?”

Dib’s blood suddenly ran cold. He crossed his arms and turned slightly away, guarded. “What are you getting at?” he asked cautiously.

“Were you ever ever going to tell me, or was I just supposed to figure it out when we’re 100 and you still look 20?” Gaz asked. Despite her cold gaze, she almost sounded hurt.

Dib dropped his arms to his sides. “I guess I thought that it would either never come up because we weren’t really talking, or you’d kick my ass for letting Zim do that to me," he said softly.

“From what he told me, he didn’t have a choice.”

Dib sighed and sat down on the floor, defeated. “What did he tell you?”

Gaz shrugged, staring back up at the ceiling. “That he fucked up, took you to some planet where he was wanted, showed off and got found out by the wrong people. He said he did everything he could to save you before turning you into an alien. Given your past, I trust his judgement on that one.”

Dib ran his fingers through the carpet, cheeks burning.

“I expected this would happen eventually,” Gaz admitted. “That he’d end up doing something to extend your life, make it harder for you to die in general. I just didn’t think it would be because of a shootout on some food court planet.”

If Dib had to bet money on it, that wouldn’t have been what he’d gone with, either. He would have assumed it would be after one of his many attempts on his life, or that Zim would sneak something into his drink or inject him with something in his sleep. If he was being generous, he would have assumed it would happen as Zim intended; as a present, graciously accepted with mutual understanding of all the implications.

“Are you going to be alright?” Gaz asked, suddenly giving him a strange look.

“I just got kicked out of my own house, Gaz. What the hell do you think?” Dib replied wearily.

Gaz looked away and Dib could hear her irritably chewing on the metal hoop in her bottom lip.

“What I mean is, should I be hiding the bleach and the blades for my safety razor?” she asked, arms crossed, looking away.

“Uh, excuse me?” Dib asked, all meaning going straight over his head.

“Am I going to wake up and find you dead in my bathroom over all this?” she asked, much more softly this time.

Dib stared at her quizzically, unsure how to even begin to answer that one. When he didn’t answer, she finally looked back over to him.

“That _really_ fucked me up, you know,” she said, and for once, Dib got the feeling that Gaz had dropped all of her usual walls, at least temporarily. “I mean, it had kind of become just this thing you’d do, you know? Fight with dad, storm off, do something stupid, call Zim, fight with Zim loudly enough that I could hear you from across the hall, eventually let Zim fix you … It was this fucked up routine that I got sort of numb to, because it happened so much. When I found you were _serious_ about it that time, though?”

She sounded like she was going to cry and Dib couldn’t even look her in the eyes anymore. The pain was palpable.

“What if _I’d_ found you?” she asked, voice choked. “What if Zim hadn’t showed up, and I was the one who finally opened the door and found you there?”

Dib had always assumed that it wouldn’t matter, because both Gaz and his father cared so little. That had been the whole point; his family wouldn’t hurt at all because neither of them cared.

“I feel like you were trying to punish us.”

Dib looked up, defensive despite the fact that his sister was clearly holding back tears. “And I always got the feeling that dad would rather have a _dead_ son than have me around at all,” he said, agitated.

“God! What the hell is it with you and him??” she asked, angrily wiping away tears.

“He just plain _doesn’t_ like me!” Dib fired back. "He _never_ has!"

Gaz scoffed. “As if you were making things any less difficult for him.”

“Easy for you to say!” Dib exploded. “You were _always_ the favorite! He was _never_ around until mom died, and then he came home with you and I found myself living with _two complete strangers!_ He was so invested in _you_ from the beginning, I don’t even know why he ever fucked around with the idea of _me_ taking over the company!”

“Well, finally. There it is. You _blame me_ because mom died," Gaz said coldly. 

“No, I _don’t_ ,” Dib insisted angrily. “I’m just saying that dad only ever seemed to want anything to do with _you_.” He looked up just in time to catch the blanket Gaz had tossed at his head.

“Ya know what, Dib?” she seethed, standing up. “Have fun stewing in your misery and sleeping on the damn couch. I’m going to bed. Just count yourself lucky _I’m_ not dumping you out on your sorry ass, too.”

She stormed out, yanking shut the curtain that separated the room from the rest of the house. Slightly deeper in, a door slammed and shook the foundations of the little house.

Dib stood up, hit the lights, and curled up on the couch, feeling more alone than he had since he'd gotten back to Earth. Everything was a mess. Zim hated him. Gaz hated him. He'd burned through the goodwill of everyone he still cared about in the span of roughly an hour. For the second time that night, Dib was left with the seemingly impossible question of how on earth he was ever going to make things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter drops on Sunday. I'm rationing emergency hugs for you all in the meantime <33
> 
> Also I'm taking a break from social media so I don't completely implode. I can, however, be reached on various chat apps and short-wave radio.
> 
> [Song this chapter is titled after. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nMFewMg__68)


	12. Broken Satellite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim finally figures out why Dib is behaving so strangely. Everyone is having heart-to-hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for both suicide and parental death mentions.
> 
> No nasty cliffhangers this time. You guys deserve a little bit of resolution <3

_All will be well,  
Even after all the promises  
You've broken to yourself.  
All will be well,  
You can ask me how  
But only time will tell._

[\- Gabe Dixon, _All Will Be Well_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L2-3ooX_XkQ)

* * *

_I._

GIR scooched over to Zim's side of the couch and shoved a packet of Fun Dip into his hands, making him abruptly snap back to reality.

“Where’d Dib go?” GIR asked.

“Away for a little while,” Zim replied softly.

“Oh … he’ll be back soon, right?”

Zim stared at the rug. Stupid Dib, leaving him in a position where he had to lie to GIR. “Yeah … he’ll be back before you know it.”

GIR looked up at him, and Zim could only guess at what was running through his strange metal brain.

“You need a hug, Master?”

Well, at least GIR wasn't painfully aloof all of the time.

Zim smiled sadly. “Yeah, I’d take a hug.”

GIR always hugged too long and too tight but Zim needed for _some_ one to reassure him right now. He had four eggs slowly growing in his belly and no Dib to turn to. He only hoped that Gaz might be able to talk some sense into him.

Zim couldn’t figure out what had happened. It was like Dib had reverted back to his old, flakey, unreliable self as soon as Zim was gone for more than 24 hours. 

Something about it didn’t sit right.

Actually, _a lot of things_ weren’t sitting right. Lard Nar’s detention of him on account of Dib “messing up the data”, Dib’s illness, _Project Loveless_ …

Zim stared at his Vortian tablet. He still hadn’t yet trawled through any of the texts he’d secretly pilfered and he figured that now was just as good a time as any to finally see what Lard Nar had been keeping from him. He pulled up the first paper, tore open the packet of Fun Dip, and dug in to both.

The first few papers dealt primarily with early PAK engineering. While fascinating and relevant to the smeets, it didn’t seem to have anything to do with Dib’s sudden 180. It wasn’t until the fifth paper, a seemingly dry read on Irken neurology, that he stumbled across something that made his antennae stand on end. It was written in that painfully clinical way most early Vortian papers on Irkens tended to be, so it wasn’t until midway through the passage that the implications fully hit him, and he had to start reading the page again from the top.

_While the mothering hormones may affect the pregnant mate earlier, the effect of the complementary pheromones is no less significant in the sire. Pheromones released by the pregnant mate encourage the sire to engage in oral copulation, where further pheromones can be ingested. When consistently ingested over a period of weeks, this results in profound and permanent changes in brain structure that mirror those of the pregnant mate. It is these changes that bond a mating pair for life._

_When successful, even the most reluctant mates will happily settle down not only for the period of time it takes to raise their smeets to maturity, but for the rest of their unusually long lifespans._

_However,_ _it_ _appears_ _that_ _if_ _the_ _pair_ _is_ _separated_ _for_ _any_ _length_ _of_ _time_ _during_ _the_ _course_ _of_ _the_ _process_ _or_ _the_ _sire_ _for_ _any_ _reason_ _fails_ _to_ _ingest_ _a_ _high_ _enough_ _concentration_ _of_ _his_ _mate’s_ _pheromones,_ _the_ _process_ _will_ _be_ _incomplete_ _and_ _may,_ _in_ _time,_ _revert_ _entirely._

Zim froze.

Did Lard Nar …? No. He couldn’t have. … Could he?

Zim immediately rushed upstairs to call up his old mentor. He had a feeling things might get nasty and he didn’t want to expose GIR to that if at all possible. He stood in the bedroom, shaking so badly he had to redial twice.

Lard Nar picked up rather quickly.

“Zim!” he said brightly. “How was the trip back? It looks like you made it home safely … What's that look for?” he asked, face falling as he suddenly registered Zim's rabid sneer, one eye twitching slightly.

“Would you like to explain to me why my mate just told me he’s changed his mind about having smeets with me and walked out?” Zim growled.

“He … _what_?” Lard Nar choked out, suddenly looking horrified.

“I got back and the first words out of his mouth were, ‘We need to talk,’ followed by, ‘Having smeets was a mistake, so get rid of them’!!” Zim yelled, wishing he could reach through the screen and throttle the cowering Vortian.

“Oh no … I am so, so sorry, Zim,” his mentor stammered out, head in his hands. “This wasn’t supposed to happen … I don’t even know _how_ it happened, considering—”

“You knew,” Zim said, low and menacing. “You fucking _knew_ that this could happen, didn’t you??? I read the papers, you stupid fuck!! I know you were researching Irken mating pheromones and chemically-assisted pair bonding!! You said you wouldn’t put us in danger but you … and I kicked him out and …” Zim could feel his panic starting to drown him. The room was spinning and he could hardly breathe. “ _Fuck_!! He’s never coming back. He’s gone. I’m going to have to … no. _No_!! I can’t do this alone!!” Zim screamed, collapsing to his knees. “I can’t … I _need_ him!! _How could you do this to me??_ ”

“Zim? I need you to calm down …” Lard Nar said gently, but his tone only seemed to cause Zim to spiral further.

“No! _No_!! He’s _gone_ and it’s all _your_ _fault_!!” Zim wailed, dissolving into tears.

“I … Zim, look,” Lard Nar said awkwardly, “don’t panic, please. We can fix this.”

“I … shouldn’t … be … in this … position … in … the first place!!!” Zim sobbed, shaking.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting for Dib to get that sick and I certainly wasn’t expecting for his system to kick its dependency on your pheromones that quickly. I thought we’d get close to the edge without completely falling over,” Lard Nar said softly. “All of this is unprecedented. The plan was to do this just to get empirical data on what happens when bonded pairs are temporarily separated and then reintroduced." The Vortian seemed to deflate slightly, staring past the screen. "I don’t even understand how he could be in the room with you for more than a minute without being affected again," he murmured, mostly to himself. "All the research says that even separated and detoxed mates just need to be reunited and the effect is usually much stronger the second time around.”

Zim hiccuped pitifully. “I wasn’t being hyperbolic. I walked through the door and he gave me an ultimatum from across the room, then I snapped and kicked him out. It couldn’t have taken more than a minute …”

“Okay. Alright, yes. That makes a bit more sense. So, you should just need to get him close enough for long enough to be affected again,” Lard Nar said simply. 

Zim stared at the floor, worry swirling in his guts. Lard Nar had already been wrong once, now. Why should Zim expect him to be correct about things this time around? And even if he was correct … how much longer until this happened _again_? And _again_? Was Zim’s _entire life_ going to revolve around keeping his mate pumped full of enough brain-altering chemicals to keep him passive?

“Is any of this even real?” he whispered to Lard Nar. “Or is it all just chemicals?”

“All emotions are just chemicals, Zim,” Lard Nar said, sounding tired. “It’s why most of your race can’t feel love or empathy. They lack the capacity to make the right chemicals.”

“I mean … without me influencing him like this … does Dib even love me?” Zim asked, barely audible.

“I didn’t ever peg you as being concerned about free will.”

“I’m not worried that I’m taking his choice away,” Zim mumbled, pulling his knees to his chest. “I’m worried that this is just going to happen again and again.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have those answers yet,” Lard Nar said sympathetically.

“Some scientist _you_ are.” Zim gave his mentor a cutting glare and Lard Nar had to look away. 

“I’m sorry, Zim,” he said, sounding genuinely distressed. “I should _never_ have gambled with your lives like this, war or no war. There were other ways we could have gone about it. I was just concerned that even having both of you on the same planet might skew the results.” He ran his fingers through his fur. “As it is -- and, believe me, I'm sure this comes across as a rather hollow victory -- I’m hoping that something in the data we were able to collect might help us save Irk.”

Zim raised an antenna. “ _Save_ Irk?? I thought you wanted to destroy it?” he said, so bewildered that he was momentarily shocked out of his anger.

“You read the research papers. Did you get to the part about the mating pheromones rewiring brain structure of both partners?”

Zim nodded, still skeptical.

“It seems to have been the case for you,” Lard Nar said. “I was going through your old medical records —”

“How, exactly, did you get your hands on those?” Zim asked suspiciously.

“They were part of a bunch of data I stole from the Empire before I disappeared. I was a bit stuck on the idea of you being different from other Irkens,” Lard Nar admitted.

“Well, _that’s_ a massive violation of privacy, but go on,” Zim said irritably.

“Your neural connections and the areas of your brain that process love and attachment have changed. A lot. More than can really be accounted for by anything else. I want to reiterate that I don't know for certain, but from what I've gathered ... there _is_ a chance that your mate’s brain structure might be permanently altered, too,” Lard Nar said emphatically. “Especially considering how similar your initial scans were. Dib’s about as brain-damaged as you were initially. ”

“Wait … you mean his psychological issues?” Zim asked.

“Keep in mind that I'm extrapolating a bit here. I've never studied a human before. But there were areas that looked like they should be lighting up an awful lot more than they were,” Lard Nar replied. “When I realized they had a weak response to you, I figured out what those areas are supposed to control. And if I’m correct, they should be repaired the way yours were once the pair bonding process is complete.”

“A _weak_ response?” Zim asked, suddenly all ears. 

“Well, yes. Most brains light up like a supernova if you get the subject’s mate anywhere near them," Lard Nar explained. "Even _yours_ lit up like crazy when Dib was nearby. Dib had the expected response levels in some areas, but not all of them.”

“But there _was_ a response everywhere you expected to find one?” Zim demanded.

“Yes?”

“Send the scans to me,” Zim said as he pulled up the old ones he’d taken before and after the chip installation.

Lard Nar tapped around off screen and, a moment later, the scans popped up on Zim's TV screen. Zim held up his tablet for comparison, brow furrowed, and nearly dropped everything.

“Oh … oh, Irk … it can’t … _holy shit_ ,” Zim stammered, tears springing to his eyes. “I can’t believe it …”

“What’s wrong?” Lard Nar asked, concerned.

“Not wrong … the opposite of wrong,” Zim said, hand to his mouth. “Those areas used to not light up at all!”

Lard Nar gave the scans a bewildered look. “That’s him on a _good_ day? Oh my ...”

“But he can be fixed,” Zim said, a shocked laugh bubbling up into his throat. “Holy fuck. He can _actually_ be fixed!”

“I think he can,” Lard Nar said emphatically. “You just need to get him close enough to you for more than a minute, and the rest should take care of itself. If it doesn’t take, I promise you we’ll figure out another way to fix your mate. But if it does … and I _do_ think it will … this goes beyond just you two. I think we might be able to save your people, too, Zim.”

Zim was taken aback by how intense Lard Nar was about the whole thing, but then the absurdity of the situation struck him and he laughed before he could stop himself.

“You really think you’re going to stop the Armada with _love_??” he guffawed. “Fuck, do you even _remember_ how Irkens are?? I’m Defective and everything down to my DNA was clearly an oversight. How do you expect to make those genetically engineered _monsters_ feel even a passing flash of empathy for _anything_?”

Lard Nar pursed his lips, looking flustered. “Well, we can always just _nuke them from orbit_ , Zim. That option isn’t off the table yet.”

Zim ran his fingers down an antenna, trying to calm himself. “Sorry, I’m just thinking of people I knew back on Irk and trying to imagine any of them with an _iota_ of compassion. What are you even going to do with them if this works? Hold them accountable for _war crimes_? They may as well be different people by that point.”

“Well, was Dib a different person since he started pair bonding with you?” Lard Nar asked.

He was clearly expecting a simple “No”, but the more Zim thought about it …

“The last day we had together on Irk, I realized he had changed so much that he wasn’t the Dib I originally fell for … he’s the Dib I genuinely wanted to pair bond with,” Zim said softly.

Lard Nar’s eyes widened. “He was _that_ different?”

Zim thought back to making love on the beach, laying naked and laughing and talking and enjoying each other in a way they never really had before.

Zim nodded. “Yeah, he was _that different_.”

Lard Nar ran his fingers through his fur. “Well, _that_ changes the approach a bit," he sighed, shaking his head. "But in regards to Dib, I think all you need to do is lure him in with an offer to talk things over, and things should take care of themselves. I just wouldn’t let him leave your side until the smeets hatch.”

“Yeah, well, as long as no one _teleports him across the galaxy_ , that should go just peachy,” Zim replied icily.

“I deserve all the hate you have for me, Zim,” Lard Nar said, looking miserable about it. “I took things too far and I’m sorry.”

Despite the utter betrayal Zim felt, he didn’t want to lose the closest person he had to a parent. “Look, just keep me updated on this whole crackpot plan, alright?” he said irritably. “That way, when the time comes, I can decide for myself if I want _anything_ to do with anyone outside of this sector ever again.”

“See? There’s that empathy I mentioned,” Lard Nar beamed.

“Don’t get cute," Zim warned. "You’re not back on my good side just yet.”

“Understood," Lard Nar said softly. He sighed and gave Zim small, hopeful smile. "I’ll talk to you later, Zim.”

Zim narrowed his eyes. “Maybe.”

Lard Nar nodded. “Maybe,” he echoed, right before the feed went dark.

Zim collapsed backwards into his bed with an aggravated groan. As much as he knew he should want Lard Nar ejected into the vacuum of space and set on a trajectory for the nearest star, he just couldn’t bring himself to sever their bond. His actions were _almost_ excusable, considering everything that was at stake.

His mind wandered back to Dib and how different he had been during their trip to Vort. Knowing that the whole thing was chemically assisted gave him pause. Could he live with this new Dib, knowing that it wasn’t the _real_ Dib? The Dib he would be if he wasn’t outright addicted to Zim? Though, he also had to ask himself if he could live without Dib full-stop.

Knowing what he did now about pair bonding, the answer was probably an emphatic _No_.

He pulled out his phone, debating to what extent he wanted to involve Gaz in this whole debacle. Though he supposed that she was already dealing with her deadbeat brother sleeping on her couch, and considering that Zim was about to offer her a way to finally be rid of him from her living room … well …

He called her up before he could talk himself out of it. It rang for so long, Zim nearly hung up.

“Hey … sorry, had to make sure I was out of earshot of you-know-who," Gaz whispered. "What’s up?”

“How’s he doing?” Zim asked, his voice thin and small.

“He’s …” She made a frustrated noise. “He’s being a pain in my ass. To be perfectly honest, we didn’t even dig into the topic of you, yet. He pissed me off so badly that I had to just walk away.”

“I think I found the answer to both our problems, then,” Zim said cautiously. “Can you meet me somewhere? I need you to go over the literature with me …”

“Reading? Over winter break? You absolute monster.”

Zim was well aware that she was joking, he just couldn’t find it in himself to be in the mood for it. “I’m being _serious_ right now …”

“So am I. You can’t give me the synopsis?”

“Could you _please_ just come over? I need you to read this for yourself and then tell me if I’m being absolutely ridiculous about this … I don’t like putting you in the middle of things, believe me,” Zim mumbled self-consciously, “but I need outside input before I go and do something _completely_ _asinine_.”

Gaz heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Sometimes I feel like _all I do_ is stop you two from doing completely asinine things.”

“I’m sorry …” Zim’s voice practically bled regret. He hated having to ask other people for help, but he was feeling thoroughly out of his depth at this point. Dib was clearly dealing with some sort of baggage on top of all the pair-bonding snafu.

“You’re fine. It’s the _other idiot_ who’s wearing me out,” Gaz replied with a touch of irritation.

“So you’ll come over?” Zim asked hopefully.

“Zim, it’s like 2am and I _just_ got done yelling at Dib for blaming me for our mom’s death, so I’m kinda shot right now, emotionally.”

Zim perked an antenna. “Wait. Your _mom_? Dib never mentioned a mom.”

“You didn’t think we hatched out of eggs or something, did you?”

“No,” Zim said defensively. “It just never really crossed my mind. You’ve got the one parent and after I finally learned how humans produce offspring, I assumed you were adopted or something.”

“Dad’s our biological dad. Mom isn’t around because …" Gaz suddenly went silent.

"Are you still there?" Zim asked, looking at his phone.

"Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking that maybe this is a bad time to tell you this story,” Gaz said, her tone suddenly reticent.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to freak you out …”

“I’m not going to get freaked out, Gaz. Would you just tell me? I feel like this is relevant to Dib’s … _tragic backstory_ , or whatever.”

Gaz gave a long sigh and the line once again went quiet momentarily. Zim checked to make sure he hadn’t accidentally hung up.

“Okay, are you sitting down? This is a long one and it’s … it’s weird,” Gaz said finally.

“Curled up in bed, actually. Spill the horrible beans.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Gaz mumbled. “Alright. So, mom and dad met when they were graduate students working at SETI. Before it got shut down, obviously.”

“Uh, I think that was before my time …”

“Big radio telescope. Listens for signals coming from space,” Gaz explained. “Dad was interested in pulsars and that kind of thing, but mom was hardcore I-Want-To-Believe about aliens. Like Dib-level 'they walk among us'. Even when SETI was shut down and dad founded Membrane Labs, she still wanted to focus on finding evidence of extraterrestrial life. When she had Dib, dad was hardly ever home and she had switched to full-time mom'ing, so she would take Dib UFO hunting and all sorts of crap that probably explains why he’s … ya know … _Like That_.”

“That certainly explains a lot,” Zim replied.

“Anyway, so she gets pregnant with me a couple years later and everything seems fine. No complications. I was a ridiculously fat baby,” Gaz said with a faint laugh. “But over the course of the next week or so, she started acting .... _weird_."

"Weird how?"

"She just completely lost touch with reality. Started saying things about aliens and me being the result of an abduction or something and just really freaking dad and Dib out. Dad took parental leave because he was worried she was going to try and get me to phone home or something. By the time it got to a point where dad realized she _really_ wasn't herself and needed professional help, she …”

Zim held his breath. He was really hoping that their mom was right and some renegade group of aliens came to save her. But he knew better.

"... She took her own life," Gaz whispered.

Zim had no idea what the correct response to all of that was. “What … What was wrong with her?” he finally asked quietly.

“Postpartum psychosis,” Gaz said. “Some people, once they have their kid, the hormones just make them absolutely lose it. We’re just lucky she didn’t hurt me or Dib while she was completely out of it.”

Zim was still processing all of this information. “So, your dad had an issue with Dib’s alien obsession because it reminded him of your mom?” he asked, trying to piece it all together.

“I guess so … I tried for years to get him to knock it off and take an interest in something else. But, you know Dib. He probably just doubled down on it out of spite, not realizing the effect he was having on the rest of us.”

Zim nodded. That did sound like his Dib.

“Between that and the suicide attempts … I dunno,” Gaz said, and Zim could hear her flop down on her bed. “I think dad’s a little messed up about the similarities.”

“I still don’t think it’s an excuse for how Dib was treated,” Zim said, attempting to be diplomatic.

“I know … it’s just hard when I see dad really trying to be involved and it doesn’t look like Dib is even _attempting_ to meet him halfway.”

Zim had to stop himself before he instigated what would almost certainly end up being a fight. From his perspective, all he had _ever_ seen was Professor Membrane putting down Dib’s interests, ignoring him, being almost perpetually away from home, and often being downright abusive when he wasn’t merely neglectful. Sure, Gaz had only had one parent growing up. But it sounded like Dib had lost the only parent that mattered to him.

“Do you think … ugh, maybe it’s a stretch,” Zim said wearily. “Could this whole thing with your mom be part of why Dib’s backpedaling so hard on me right now? He’s been _really_ harping on this whole ‘doing it right this time’ thing, and maybe the pressure he’s been putting himself under finally got to him.”

“Maybe,” Gaz said, suddenly sounding a little guilty.

“I know it isn’t the _whole_ issue. The whole thing is stupid and a little complicated. If you can come over tomorrow I can explain it.”

“If you insist on being cagey about it over the phone, I suppose I’ll _have_ to.”

“There’s breakfast in it for you,” Zim coaxed. Plying humans with food tended to work, in his experience.

“Oh, alright,” Gaz said with a melodramatic sigh. “I can’t say no to breakfast.”

“Good. Oh, and … I’m still mad at him and I’m sure you are too, but try to be nice to my Dib, please,” Zim insisted. “I know he’s difficult but it’s not his fault. He’s ... not wired right.”

“Ugh, you can say _that_ again.”

“No, Gaz. I’m serious,” Zim said. “I’ve done brain scans. A lot of his brain just doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to.”

“Why?”

“I’m no human neurologist, but …” Zim bit his lip. He didn’t want to make Gaz feel awful, but there was really no long term benefit to keeping her in the dark. “It was probably all the abuse and neglect when he was younger.”

“... Great,” she muttered under her breath. “Well, now you’ve gone and made me feel sorry for him. Which, I guess, is _probably_ for the best. I was planning to wake him up at 5am with Norwegian death metal but now I guess I’ll just let him sleep in while I slip out to talk to you.”

“I’m gonna go ahead and thank you on his behalf.”

“Does he still sleep in until 1pm if you don’t wake him up?”

Zim laughed. “Yeah, if it wasn’t for me, he’d miss half a semester’s worth of classes.”

“Good. I’ll be over to your place by 10am,” Gaz said, stifling a yawn. “But for now, I should really get to sleep.”

“Yeah, no problem. Good night and … thanks for taking care of my idiot,” Zim said with a sad smile.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see ya tomorrow Zim. G’night.”

Zim slid down to the floor in relief -- an action that was getting harder by the day. The only reason Zim was at all reticent to just grab Dib and shove his big, stupid head between his thighs was because he was still hung up on how much of this was real. Did Dib _really_ love him, or was Zim just making a mindless, chemically addicted zombie out of him? As much as Dib owed him and Zim felt an urgency to keep Dib with him by any means necessary, the worry nagged at him like a splinter. Additionally, he wasn’t terribly excited about the proposition of having to explain alien biology to his closest platonic human friend. He could only hope that Gaz would be willing to just roll with it.

He struggled to his feet and wandered back downstairs, where GIR was midway through some horror movie that Zim didn’t recognize, and set himself on the opposite side of the couch. Just like they always used to do before Dib. It was a welcome distraction, but Zim hoped it was by no means permanent.

* * *

_II._

Although he went to bed directly after talking with Gaz, Zim had barely slept. He never really needed much sleep in general, especially compared to his human, but harboring four little lives seemed to take a lot out of him. The past night, however, he kept rolling over and finding to other side of the bed empty and waking up in a panic. Twenty minutes before Gaz was due to come over, he finally rolled out of bed and marched down to the kitchen to try and find something food-related he could use to repay Gaz for her time. He pulled a box of Krispy Kreme donuts out of the freezer along with some of the extra waffles GIR had made -- after giving them a sniff to make sure GIR hadn’t added soap or sriracha or something worse to them -- and dug out a bottle of Dib’s concentrated cold brew from the fridge. Once the latter was diluted enough not to taste like jet fuel and the food had been popped in the toaster oven, he figured it would make for a decent enough human breakfast.

His mind wandered to Dib. He felt _some_ compassion for Dib’s position; it couldn’t have been easy for him to lose a parent like that. Dib and his mother sounded like kindred spirits, which made the fact that Membrane had tried to quash all the I-want-to-believe out of Dib that much more twisted. At the same time, Zim really didn’t need the added stress of wondering whether or not he was going to be mateless. That was something that they had read over and over was a death sentence for Irkens. Taking that into consideration, there was really no excuse for Dib to put him in this situation at all. Mind altering chemicals or not, how hard was it for Dib to be a decent fucking person?

In his anger, Zim knocked over the remaining bottle of coffee and watched as it fell to the floor and shattered. He managed to jump backwards quickly enough to avoid being sprayed by weapons-grade caffeine and tiny splinters of glass, but the rest of the kitchen wasn’t so fortunate. Zim let out a shriek of frustration.

Sure, he’d managed to put the drinks together before he flubbed up. That didn’t matter when there was half a liter of coffee pooling on his kitchen floor.

His vision blurred and he slumped back down against the cabinets. He felt like he was granted one emotion per day, turned up to eleven, and today’s was irritation. Unfortunately, no matter which emotion he was given on any day, it _always_ seemed to involve crying. 

He heard the door suddenly open and jumped.

“Whoa. What the hell is going on here?” Gaz asked from the doorway.

Normally, Zim would have asked if it would kill her to knock, but he was internally grateful that she’d stepped in when she had.

“I s-spilled the …” was all he got out before his mouth stopped working and his hormone-addled body decided it was moving straight to sobbing.

Gaz made her way over, sidestepping the disaster in the middle of the floor. She gave Zim’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Go sit down. I’ll take care of all this.”

Zim looked up with shimmering eyes and sniffled pathetically. “It’s not even your h-house,” he said, breath hitching.

“No, but you’re all round and I’m not,” Gaz pointed out, reaching a hand down. 

Zim took it and she helped pull him to his feet. Zim watched her eyes travel downwards. In just his t-shirt and leggings, it was obvious that he was heavily pregnant.

“How much longer?” she asked gently.

Zim wiped the tears from his face. “Dunno … a month or so maybe? And even then, that’s just the eggs. They won’t hatch for about another month after that.”

Zim stared off into the distance. Would he and Dib be back to being a happy, stupidly giggly couple by then? Would Dib be _his_ again? Bonded forever and only to Zim?

“We’ll talk some sense into him before then,” Gaz assured him, seeming to read his mind. She steered him towards the table and into a chair. “Sit tight. I’ll get this cleaned up.”

Zim just nodded, feeling useless. He felt lost without Dib by his side and the longer he was alone, the more he felt like he was falling apart. His sanity was beginning to feel tenuous.

“Does he really love me, Gaz?” he asked softly.

“Is _that_ what you’re worried about?” Gaz asked from the floor as she sopped up the spilled coffee with most of a roll of paper towels.

“I’m worried he doesn’t love me _enough_ , really.”

“The way you’ve talked about him for the past year or so? I don’t think that should be a concern at all. Ever since he almost died, it seems like he gained some perspective and stopped being such an ass. I mean, the two of you argue, but that's just being in a relationship. Especially when you're practically glued at the hip. I know one of you never goes anywhere without the other.” Gas picked up a mess of dripping paper towels and glass, dumping them in the actual trash bin. She’d learned the hard way that the other one was a decoy. She gave Zim a determined glance. “Whatever demons he’s wrestling with, he’ll get over them for you. I don’t care if I have to help that along by dragging his ass to therapy. He’s going to get there.”

“There might be some outside factors involved as well …” Zim said, trailing off nervously.

“Like what?”

Zim slumped over in his chair and gestured defeatedly at his tablet. “Look, can you please just read this stupid thing?”

Gaz moved to the table and Zim pushed his tablet over to her.

“This will explain it better than I could …”

He sat nervously, watching as Gaz’s face cycled through about 20 different emotions in the span of a minute. She finished reading and stared at the screen a moment, gears clearly turning in her head.

“I never really wondered what you two got up to, but now _that’s_ forever burned into my brain,” she said, sliding the tablet back to Zim.

“I’m sorry,” Zim said softly, kicking his legs under the table to burn off some nervous energy. “I thought since it was clinical —”

“You’re fine, Zim. I’m joking. It’s all good.” Gaz rested her head on her palm and sighed. “So, I’m guessing this whole debacle is a case of incomplete pair bonding?”

“That’s what it seems like,” Zim said, idly spinning the tablet with a finger. “What’s worse is that my old mentor, the one running the planet with the library we needed access to, kept us apart _knowing_ there would be some consequence. Granted, he didn’t think it would be this severe. And, because of his research, we know there were structural changes in _my_ brain. I’m just … scared they won’t be permanent in Dib. That I’ll always have to be on alert for him to do this again over something else.”

“I’ll talk to him about the whole thing with our mom,” Gaz said gently. “This whole pair bonding thing seems pretty cut-and-dry, but I also don’t think he would have flipped out on you like he did if he didn’t have some major baggage to work through. So ... I'm gonna help him work through it.”

Zim visibly relaxed. “Thank you …”

“It’s not like I don’t have a horse in this race,” Gaz said with a smirk. “I _just_ got used to the idea of being an Aunt to a bunch of little space bugs and I’m not willing to relinquish that.”

Zim ducked his head bashfully. “You’re _really_ excited about meeting them?”

Gaz took his hand and squeezed it. “I’m beyond stoked to get to meet them. And once they get here, I’ll watch them for you whenever you need a break. That’s a promise.”

* * *

_III._

The first thing that roused Dib was the smell of eggs and bacon. The second thing that roused him was a large tongue slurping his palm.

He frantically shot up and jumped up on the back of the couch, dazed and mostly blind without his glasses. What looked like a black and red lion was sitting in front of the couch, breathing heavily.

“What is _that_??” he shrieked as Gaz ambled over from the kitchen.

“Oh, calm down. That’s just Lionel. He was saying hi to you.”

Dib fumbled for his glasses, and the large Tibetan Mastiff finally came into focus. 

“Where did he come from??” Dib asked, heart still pounding. “I didn’t see a dog here last night!”

Gaz kneeled down to scratch behind the rather poofy dog’s ears. “He was sleeping in my room like a good boy, right Lionel? Who’s a good boy, huh?”

Dib just stared in confusion. He’d never seen his sister show _anything_ that much affection literally ever.

“Did dad buy him for you?” he asked, not moving from his perch.

“Well, yeah. I _am_ a woman living on my own.”

Dib scoffed. “Oh, please. $50 says you’ve got a concealed carry permit and a closet full of guns.”

Gaz stood up to go back to the kitchen and shot him a smirk over her shoulder. “Don’t piss me off and you’ll never have to find out.”

Dib glanced warily between her and the veritable beast drooling onto the carpet, wondering which one posed more of a threat. After a second of deliberation, he decided it was probably his sister.

“Get in here before breakfast gets cold,” Gaz called from the kitchen.

"Call off the dog, first," Dib said, eying his sister's fluffy protector.

"Jesus Christ, Dib. He's not going to eat you," she said, rolling her eyes. "Well, unless I tell him to."

"Not inspiring confidence!"

"Oh, fine. Lionel! Breakfast!" she called, and the dog leapt to his feet and sprinted to the kitchen.

Dib stood up, feeling absolutely disgusting for having slept in his clothes. He was either going to have to go out and buy new ones, or figure out how to smooth things over with Zim by today. He dropped down in an empty chair and Gaz set a plate in front of him. He hadn’t quite forgotten his stomach’s violent rebellion just a few days ago, so he tried to show a little restraint.

Gaz sat down across from him, Lionel munching noisily from his bowl under the table at her feet, and interlaced her fingers, looking like she meant business.

“Why’d you leave Zim?” she asked, in the sort of tone that Dib suspected had kicked off many a police interrogation.

“I thought he already told you,” Dib said, eyeing her suspiciously.

“I mean beyond the ‘I can’t do this’. What made you get cold feet?”

Dib stared at the egg that had been fried into the center of his toast. “It’s gonna sound ridiculously dumb,” he warned her.

“Try me,” she replied through a mouthful of egg.

He set down his fork and sighed. “While I was sick out of my mind, I kept having these nightmares about the smeets coming out wrong and Zim totally losing his mind because of it and blaming everything on me,” he whispered, staring past the table. “I can’t tell you how many times I saw them dead, or watched them end up dying. Not to mention, all the horrible things Zim said to me and the awful ways he died, too.” He pulled his glasses off and put his face in his hands. “I _know_ it’s just dreams, but they fucked me up so badly.”

“Because of mom,” Gaz said softly. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” Dib choked out, head drooping until his fingers were in his hair. 

"What happened to her was a one-in-a-million thing, Dib," Gaz said gently.

“That doesn't help the fact that I basically won the lottery for traumatic early childhood experiences," Dib said plaintively. "I was really little when everything happened, so I don’t have a lot of strong, cinematic memories of the whole thing. But I thought you were an alien for an embarrassingly long time."

Gaz almost cracked a joke, but stopped herself. They both had the same tone-deaf defense mechanism to heavy topics, but at least she had some semblance of a filter.

"It took forever to come to grips with the reality that … she was just sick," Dib whispered. "And nobody knew how to do to fix her. It didn’t help that I felt like I was the _only one_ honoring her memory, keeping her passions alive. You never even got to know her, but dad … It was like he just wanted to forget about her," Dib said, voice finally breaking. "He punished _every little thing_ I’d shared with her. That was around the same time he went hard with the ‘real science’ crap. I barely knew him before, but I really felt like I was living with a stranger after that.”

"And all I knew growing up was dad putting you down and making you seem like a lunatic," Gaz whispered. "I didn't even know about mom working at SETI and all her passion projects until a couple years ago. And the more I find out ... the more I wish I'd had a chance to know her."

Dib looked up, and he knew from the uncomfortable look on Gaz’s face that she could tell he was very poorly holding back tears. “I know you think I’m lucky because at least I had both parents, even if it was only for a little while," he said, taking a shaky breath. "What you don’t get is that I lost _my only parent_ before I turned four.”

Gaz stood up, and for a moment, Dib thought he’d pissed her off again. He was shocked when she skirted around the table, sat down on the edge of his chair, and hugged him. He hugged back tightly, feeling awkward and stupid.

This was, strangely, the closest they had ever been. They'd spent their entire childhood at odds with each other. Even in high school, when they'd started putting up with each other, Gaz's concern was primarily focused in Zim's direction, rather than Dib's. He felt she'd given up on him by that point.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I never thought about it from your perspective before. I always blamed you for upsetting dad. I never thought about how he fucked both of us over by trying to erase her memory, or how hard it was for you to feel like you never belonged." She sniffled, hugging him tight. "Maybe if I'd tried a little harder to understand you ... you wouldn't have tried to kill yourself all those times."

Dib could tell by the way she was shaking that she was crying silently over his shoulder. She'd always been the stoic one, level-headed and rational. Nothing seemed to phase her. To have her crying all over him made Dib's anxiety momentarily skyrocket.

"It's not your fault," he murmured. "You were just a kid."

"So were you," Gaz pointed out, full of melancholy.

They sat, embarrassed and regretful and clinging to each other like life rafts in a sea of despair, until a weight on Dib's leg made him look down. Lionel peered up at him, brown eyes soft and baleful. Gaz let out a small laugh and reached down to pet him.

"Hey buddy," she said softly. "He always knows when I'm feeling down." She leaned back slightly and gave Dib a searching look.

“I’m sorry it took all this bullshit for us to finally talk it out,” Dib warbled.

“I’m even more sorry it took all this trouble between you and Zim for us to talk this out,” Gaz said, petting her hulking monster of a dog. “Speaking of … you _really_ need to talk to him about all this. I told him about our mom but you need to explain why you freaked out when he came back. Dude thinks you don’t love him, or something.”

Dib’s face fell even further. “What? That’s not it _at all_.”

“Yeah, exactly why you should probably go have a chat. _After_ you get some protein in you, that is. I’m worried you’re going to pass the fuck out if I send you off right now.”

“Should I text Zim? Tell him I’m coming back and we need to talk?” Dib said nervously.

“ _Don’t_ tell him you ‘need to talk’,” Gaz warned him. “You’re going to give him a heart attack. Just finish eating and then you can go talk to him face to face. Let’s just cut out all the avenues for miscommunication, okay?”

Dib nodded and shoveled another forkful of food into his mouth while he tried to sort through his thoughts so he didn’t end up right back out on his ass the moment he went home.

* * *

_IV._

Dib held his breath and knocked on the front door to the place that had been his home for the past year and a half. To his surprise, instead of getting an ass full of laser, the door opened and Zim looked nervously up at him like a kicked puppy.

“Hey,” Dib said, his voice high and soft, as if anything less gentle might startle Zim away. 

Zim shot him a worried look, but ultimately stepped back and allowed him to come in.

“Dib’s back! Dib’s back! Dib’s back!!” GIR shouted, bouncing up to Dib and hugging him around the knees. “You gotta watch this show with me!! It’s the one where—”

“GIR, Dib and I need to go talk for a little bit,” Zim said, with uncharacteristic gentleness. GIR whined and Zim patted his head. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Okay …” GIR said as he toddled back to the couch. 

Dib watched him go, chewing the inside of his cheek and completely lost in thought. Zim slipped Dib’s hand into his, bringing him back to the present.

“Let’s head up, okay?” Zim asked, fear evident in his face. 

Dib squeezed his hand and started up the steps with him. About midway up, he felt Zim trembling and stopped.

“Hey …”

“Not here,” Zim said, cutting him off. “Not where GIR can hear us. If things go badly, I d-don’t want him to …”

Zim’s lip trembled and Dib leaned down and picked him up. It wasn’t as easy as it used to be, but he had the benefit of Zim actually _wanting_ to be held this time. He carried his mate up to the bedroom, nudging the door shut behind them. He sat down on the bed, Zim still clinging to him.

“Things aren’t going to go badly,” Dib murmured. “I know you and Gaz talked last night and I know she told you what happened to my mom. So I hope this makes what I’m about to tell you less stupid …” Dib kicked his shoes off and sat back against the pillows, carefully rubbing Zim’s back as Zim clung to him. “The whole time I was sick and unconscious and feverish, I was having the weirdest dreams. I won’t bore you with the details. Most of them were about being apart and how much I missed you. But I had some _utterly_ terrifying nightmares about the smeets coming out wrong. Or dead. And you blamed me for it and then you ended up dead, too. When I woke up from that … I was scared out of my mind. It felt real and it just _haunted me_.” He hugged Zim tight, burying his face in his shoulder. “I don’t want to lose you like I lost my mom. I’d never forgive myself, Zim. I’m sorry about what I said. I know it hurt you. I was just _so scared_ either something would go wrong with the smeets or the stress would be too much and it would just …” Dib trailed off, voice choked.

Zim cuddled against him and stroked his hair. “It’s okay, Dib.”

“Some of the things you told me in those dreams … I’m so sorry, Zim,” Dib blubbered, tears in his eyes.

“Shhh, it wasn’t real,” Zim soothed softly.

“You said I’d hurt you. Pushed you too far. And that’s all _true_ and I feel awful about it,” Dib sobbed into his shoulder. “That I’m broken because my dad didn’t love me and —”

Zim sat up slightly, looking alarmed. “That’s not — _no_ , Dib, look at me,” he insisted as Dib started to turn away. He put a gentle hand on Dib’s cheek until Dib turned towards him again. “That is _not_ your fault.”

“But I _am_ broken … that’s why the chip you put in me can’t fix everything … I’m too broken!”

Zim didn’t know what else to do or say, so he kissed his human, pressing hard against him while he brushed wisps of hair aside.

“You’re _not_ broken and I love you,” Zim mumbled between kisses. “I love you _so much_ and I’d _never_ say those things. The fact that somebody hurt you _isn’t your fault_.”

He rested his forehead against Dib’s, breathing in his scent. It was lovely and sweet and warm and better than he remembered it. He could feel his mind shifting into a softer, more intimate place. He reached for Dib’s hands and interlaced their fingers, pressing them into the mattress. He could feel Dib’s erect cock pressing against him and before he could stop himself, he rolled his hips against it.

“S-sorry …” Dib stuttered. “I’ve been trying to keep a handle on myself since I walked in the door. You smell _so good_. All that keeps flashing in my brain are images of me with my head between your legs ... but I know we need to talk things out …”

Zim kissed his cheek. “You have a valid reason to be scared. I’m going to help you not be scared. Lard Nar gave me and the smeets a clean bill of health so I’m confident everything is in order. That’s all the talking-out we need.” Zim kissed his way to Dib’s ear. “Just say you’ll stay with me," he whispered, soft and warm and close, breath tickling Dib's ear. "Just say you’ll be here for me and the smeets. That's all I need to hear.”

Dib met his eyes, still fearful.

“It’s okay, Dib-Love,” Zim murmured, nuzzling against him. “Everything will be alright. I promise.”

“Okay,” Dib whispered. “I trust you. I'll be here for you, and for the smeets. I want to be a dad so badly ...”

“And you’re going to be _great_ at it,” Zim purred, grinding against him. He was losing himself in how good it felt to have Dib back, how good he smelled, how amazing it felt to have Dib’s hard member pressing against his crotch. He knew that he was _supposed_ to be letting Dib go down on him, but his body was begging him to take Dib’s cock between his legs and ride it until it exploded.

“Do you want to be on top for a little bit?” Dib asked, putting a hand on his back. 

It was as if Dib was reading his mind, Zim thought, grinding so hard he was panting and chirping.

“But I thought you were dying to go down on me?” he asked.

“I want to make you happy even more,” Dib said with a kiss. He slid his thumb under the waistband of Zim's leggings. “Take these off and ride me.”

Zim rolled off and there was a flurry of motion as they disrobed at lightning speed. When Zim tried to mount Dib, Dib stopped him with a hand on his hip.

“Why’s your shirt on?” Dib asked.

Zim looked down, cheeks burning bright pink.

“If you don’t want to take it off, that’s fine,” Dib assured him. “I just thought you liked having as much skin contact as you could.”

“Do you remember reading about the possible … _bodily changes_ that might occur?” Zim mumbled self-consciously.

Dib nodded.

Zim looked conflicted, then pulled his shirt off. Dib stared at his mate and it took him a second to realize that Zim’s chest was quite a bit _fuller_ than it used to be.

“I was worried you wouldn’t find them attractive,” Zim whispered, still looking nervous.

Dib sat up, took a small tit in his hands and ran his tongue around Zim’s nipple, making him chirp loudly in response. He pressed his lips to it, sucking gently as his tongue worked against it.

Zim ran his fingers through Dib’s hair and laughed. “Remind me to give you a taste at some point.”

Dib sat back, going red. “I wasn’t thinking of — oof!”

Zim suddenly pushed him back and mounted him properly, taking Dib’s hard cock between his legs and riding it. Dib offered Zim his hands for stability and Zim took them, howling rapturously and chirping loudly as he pleasured himself. Truthfully, he was getting a little bit of a kick out of making Dib wait. He imagined immobilizing Dib mere feet away, restraining his arms so he couldn't touch himself making him look on as Zim pleasured himself, close enough to smell everything his tongue was missing out on. A little part of him wanted to make Dib beg before he was allowed to drink all of Zim's juices.

“Good boy, Zim … such a good boy,” Dib murmured from below him, watching as Zim clearly climaxed, mouth open in ecstasy, but kept pushing onwards for more.

It was strange to make love without the seemingly requisite banter, but Dib would have been lying if he said that Zim’s volume level wasn’t an insane turn on. He bucked his hips up just as Zim dropped back down, making Zim exclaim and ride him that much harder. Zim's hands clasped so tight that his nails bit into Dib's hand.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” Dib panted.

“Good. Because then I’m gonna make you put your head between my legs and eat me out until your tongue goes numb,” Zim replied with a wolfish grin. “There’s nothing sexier than having you fill me up, then making you lick your way through all that cum to finally get a taste of me.”

Dib whimpered, the pressure between his legs building to near-unbearable levels.

“As much as you clearly love how it tastes when you cream me, I know I taste that much better," Zim said as he dropped down hard.

“F-Fuck!” Dib came harder than he had in recent memory, and Zim immediately collapsed against him, grinding frantically.

“Oh, _yes_ , Dib!! Fill me up … _Mmmm_ then there’s that much more you need to get through before you finally get to drink all that sweetness out of me,” he whimpered, clearly talking to himself as he climaxed.

Dib rolled onto his side and Zim took the cue to get situated on his back. 

“I love how you keep getting yourself off in your own dirty talk,” Dib said, kissing Zim’s tummy.

Before Zim could argue, Dib dove between his legs, lifting everything save for his shoulders clear off the bed, tongue working overtime. As much as he _did_ enjoy the taste of his own jizz, it was more that it functioned as one last hurdle Dib had to clear before he was rewarded with _exactly_ how amazing Zim tasted. He would happily drink up everything that flowed out of his mate for hours. He felt intoxicated, addicted. Every swallow left him craving more, praying for the next time he could service Zim with his mouth. 

He wondered if this feeling was normal, then abruptly decided he really didn’t care. He pressed in deep, flicking his tongue right against Zim’s pleasure button and triggering a sudden cascade of sweetness to flood into his mouth as Zim howled with pleasure above him. It was all Dib could do to swallow fast enough, pink saccharine liquid flowing down his chin in rivulets.

When the torrent finally ended and Dib came up gasping, Zim coaxed his mate on top of him.

“Well … _that_ was new,” Zim mumbled. “Are you alright? I was worried that you wouldn’t get a chance to breathe …”

Dib pressed his lips to Zim’s and slid his tongue inside, kissing him passionately. The taste was unlike anything Dib had shared with Zim before. Zim squirmed beneath him, chirping loudly and trying to get Dib’s cock back inside him without having to reach down. The need to have Dib mount him and fuck him senseless was too strong to ignore.

Dib kissed his breasts and entered him without a word, gently making love to him while Zim pleaded for Dib to take him hard and deep. Dib finally complied and had Zim weak and trembling by the time Dib came in him again. Zim made Dib go round and round, eating him out again, sliding between his legs, and filling him up until Dib’s cock was finally limp and useless, at which point he made Dib hold him close and pleasure him with his hands.

It was strange to think that, months ago, being finger-fucked was one of the best feelings Zim had ever experienced. Not that it was awful now. With three fingers in his pussy, palm against his cock’s hiding spot, and his own hand on top of Dib’s, Zim managed to coax out a number of orgasms that still left him a trembling, blissed-out mess by the end of it.

Hours later, after they had collapsed in a sticky, exhausted heap, after Dib had fallen asleep stroking Zim’s antennae as Zim lazily pleasured himself against Dib’s leg, Zim gently extricated himself and snuck down the hall, back to the first floor where he was sure Dib wouldn’t hear him.

The phone barely rang once before Gaz picked up.

“That either went amazing, or very poorly and you’ve spent the past three hours hiding the body,” she said, without so much as a “hello”.

“It went better than I ever could have planned,” Zim gushed, a stupid grin taking over his face. “The whole thing was ridiculously easy--”

“Alright, alright. Spare me the specifics. All I need to know is whether or not I’ve got my couch back, and if I’m allowed to call myself Tía Gaz or not.”

“Your couch is all yours," Zim assured her. "Let’s meet you somewhere tomorrow. All three of us. I … want to show you what he’s like when we’re on good terms. And I want to officially make you the smeets’ aunt.”

“Sounds good. I’ll let you get back to … _whatever_ disgusting thing you were in the middle of doing.”

Zim laughed softly. “Cuddling him while he naps, mostly.”

“Like I said … disgusting.”

Zim could hear the smile in her tone. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Gaz. And thank you again for everything.”

“Eh, it was just a favor to a friend. Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you two lunatics tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow … bye.”

Zim hurried back upstairs and peeked in on his mate, who was thankfully still asleep. He took the opportunity to wash all the sticky spots off his body, so he’d have something to explain his absence should Dib wake up when he crawled back into bed.

When he walked back into the room, he took a moment to appreciate his Dib; how his nose and mouth and chin were stained pink, his hair a mess, how his strange human cock, smaller and floppier than it had been half an hour ago, was stuck to his thigh. He stirred suddenly, reaching out. When he found no one beside him, he jumped up.

“Zim?!”

Zim scurried over and hopped up on the bed. “I’m right here, Dib.”

Dib scooped him up and held him close. “Oh, thank fuck ... For a second, I was worried I’d dreamed everything.” He kissed Zim’s neck and breathed in deeply. “I don’t ever want to sleep alone again, Zim. I don’t ever want to be more than a few feet from you.”

In the back of Zim’s mind, he wondered who Dib might be, without Zim getting him blitzed out of his gourd on mind control chemicals. Would he stay, despite all his trauma and worries? Would they have spent their time on Vort making love and cuddling and laughing in the sand, deeply in love? One thing was for sure; Dib could never know about the pair bonding process that Zim had inflicted upon him. Zim would be swearing Gaz to secrecy and he certainly couldn’t have Dib knowing that he was supplying research material having to do with Dib’s brain to Lard Nar. As long as the illusion of choice was maintained … Dib would never have a reason to suspect a thing.

“Don’t worry, Dib,” Zim murmured. “You won’t have to be apart from me ever again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue to be uninspired for chapter names. This one is from a line in [Shotgun Betty](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YmKize9nN48) that gives me chills.


	13. Turn & Face the Strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim and Dib try to balance school life with looming family life. Zim feels the pressure to admit his secret to Dib.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... _that_ breastfeeding scene made it into the end of this chapter because I was sleep deprived when I edited. I'm ... sorry? I think?
> 
> Also _The Velvet Teen_ is an awesome band I found last night. Show 'em some love for me, please? :3

_Like the sun hidden away_  
_I feel you at my core_  
_But you are not the piece I'm missin'_  
_Neither broken nor in need of fixin'_

— **The Velvet Teen** , [_Parallel Universe_](https://vimeo.com/281179905)

* * *

_I._

“This had better be important. I had to lie to Dib to get a moment alone. I _hate_ having to lie to him.”

Zim sat in his closet, arms crossed, the only light coming from his tablet where he had a video call with Lard Nar open.

“How are things?” Lard Nar asked, and for once it seemed genuine instead of clinical.

“You ruin my life and then ask ‘how are things’?” Zim retorted irritably.

Lard Nar looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Zim. I really am. And I do want to know if everything is going alright for you two, despite all the trouble I put you through.”

Zim glared, but he could only hold Lard Nar’s anguished gaze for a few moments before he lost his edge.

“Great, everything is going really well,” Zim said softly. “He’s been fantastic and apologetic about everything that happened. It’s good.”

“Have you had the chance to get another scan?”

Zim slumped back slightly. “What do I even tell him it’s _for_? He doesn’t know about all this … he _can’t_ know about this. I’m … chemically coercing him into being a good mate. You can say that’s just biology all you want, but it still _feels_ manipulative.”

“You don’t know that he wouldn’t be a good mate regardless,” Lard Nar said with a shrug.

Zim gave him an incredulous look. “We saw _exactly_ what happened the moment all those pheromones left his system. He turned into a panicky mess!!”

“But there was a _reason_.”

“Gah! Yes! Sure, there was a reason. But who’s to say he wouldn’t just find another one next time around?!” Zim put his face in his hands. “I have nightmares about him finding out and locking himself up somewhere to detox off me … He keeps bringing up how sick he was when he first got back, and I’m terrified he’s going to end up putting two and two together.”

Dib had a tendency to be too smart for his own good and Zim just knew that it would be his luck that Dib would puzzle things out before too long.

“Well, if he does … we could always just mind-wipe him,” Lard Nar pointed out.

“How can you be this blasé about things like that??” Zim snapped. “The point isn’t about keeping him _passive_ —”

“But you and I both know you can’t live without him. Literally, Zim. You’ll die without him, and you know it.”

"We don't know that for sure," Zim said through gritted teeth.

"How were you feeling by the time I sent you back to earth?"

Zim held his gaze for a moment, too incensed for words. Lard Nar had no business using the research he'd done on Zim against him.

“This is just how Irken mating _works_. Having a strong family structure was so important to your people that you evolved a mechanism _expressly_ for facilitating that. As I said before, _all feelings_ are just chemicals. How is this any different than you winning him over with some carefully chosen words?” Lard Nar asked.

Zim looked away, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.

“At least this is healing those broken connections, right?” Lard Nar said.

“... Fine. You’re right,” Zim muttered, still feeling conflicted about the whole setup. He ran a hand over his antenna to calm himself while he mulled some things over. “You know, I keep wondering why things didn’t hit me as hard as they did Dib,” Zim said, suspicion tinging his words. “Because I _did_ feel awful without him by the end, there. It hurt, just like he said … but it took a while.” He gave Lard Nar a hard look. “You’re the scientist. Answer that one for me.”

“Maybe your own hormones helped slow the withdrawals from Dib,” the Vortian said dismissively, looking away.

“Maybe?” Zim echoed, one antenna perked and disbelief etched in his face.

“I’ll have to look over the data some more.”

Zim narrowed his eyes as Lard Nar fiddled with something off-camera, purposefully avoiding Zim's narrowed gaze.

“Really?" Zim asked, voice even. "You’ll have to do all that, when you’re the one that made the order to keep pumping the place full of Dib’s pheromones?”

Lard Nar closed his eyes tight, lips pursed.

“I knew it,” Zim hissed.

Lard Nar put his head in his hands. “Zim, you have to understand that it was a precaution because I was worried about the smeets,” he explained, exasperated.

“So why wasn’t Dib afforded that luxury?” Zim snapped. “He could have _died_!!”

“We didn’t want to introduce outside variables, and mimicking your pheromones was a lot more complex,” Lard Nar replied through gritted teeth. “It took a lot to convince the team to even taper you off. They only did it because compromising the smeet’s safety went against the ethics board.”

“The _ethics board_??? _You’re_ the one in charge! _Make_ them listen!” Zim said, his angry snarl suddenly wavering as tears sprung to his eyes.

“I’m not a _king_ , Zim!!” Lard Nar yelled. “I’m not your Tallest. I’m not the Control Brains. So much of this was out of my hands!”

“You said you’d end things if Dib got worse! How could you promise that if things were out of your hands??”

“Killing Dib _also_ would have gone against the ethics board!” Lard Nar yelled back, frazzled. 

Zim glared but went silent.

“Even if it _hadn’t_ , I would have ended things and sent you home. Despite the fact that I would have undoubtedly been removed from my position and either jailed or kicked off this planet for good,” Lard Nar added. 

“Pfft! Don’t try to make yourself the victim,” Zim said with an accusatory look.

“That wasn’t my intention at all! I’m just saying that I am _trying_ , to the absolute best of my ability, to be in your corner, Zim,” Lard Nar insisted. “I’m in a position where the rest of the council is pushing to take care of the Empire _for good_. They’re getting rather by-any-means-necessary about it and I don’t agree with that approach _at all_. I wanted to let you go home, unbothered, but they weren’t about to let this situation slip through their fingers.” He squeezed his eyes shut, baleful. “I’m so sorry, Zim. I wanted to be a father figure for you but I also have to ensure that my people have a planet under their feet. A planet I hoped you might one day come home to,” he whispered. “I know that won’t be happening anymore. Even if you forgave me, I know Dib would sooner make a decorative rug out of me.”

Zim looked away. Why did family have to be so complicated? They’d only just gotten Gaz back but Dib’s father was still an absolute monster of a human who Zim didn’t trust not to experiment on their children, and Lard Nar had betrayed them. Even if it was for an (arguably) good reason, Zim knew his mate would never allow the Vortian back into their lives.

“I’ll try to talk to him,” Zim said softly. “I understand the position you were placed in and I don’t envy you.”

“And you’ll get me those scans?” Lard Nar asked hopefully.

Zim looked away, antennae drooping behind his head. “I’m still worried about that. What if nothing’s changed?” he asked, sounding small.

“Then I’ll help you figure something else out,” Lard Nar promised. “But until we know if things have changed at all, I can’t do anything either way.”

Zim sighed, knowing Lard Nar was right. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

“Zim?” Dib’s voice called from downstairs.

“Shit. I gotta go,” Zim said, scrambling to his feet.

“Alright. Talk to you later, Zim.”

“Ditto.”

* * *

_II._

_[First Day of a New Semester]_

This past winter vacation had been, perhaps, one of the best of Dib’s life. His momentary freak-out over his ensuing parenthood was fast fading into the rear view mirror, seeming to have been merely a blip in the radar. He was on speaking terms with Gaz once again, and she’d not only had them around for dinner on multiple occasions, but also convinced them to start attending game nights with her friends. Dib had been wildly concerned about introducing an increasingly round Zim to anyone, but not a single person questioned them. By the time the next semester finally rolled around, Dib could finally say he had family in his life again, something approximating a social life, and a stable partnership.

He reached out of the shower and blindly groped for his towel, but only found air. Confused, he peeked around the shower curtain.

Both the towel rack and the nearby shelves were empty.

Dib used his hands to squeegee most of the water from his body, then stepped out into the chilly air, dripping the whole way to the bedroom.

“Zim?” he called, poking his head into the room.

Zim froze, midway through weaving Dib’s towel into what appeared to be an elaborate nest. Dib wished he could say that he was in any way surprised, but none of the weird shit Zim got up to shocked him at all anymore.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Zim squeaked, eyes wide.

“So you _didn’t_ steal my towel to make a nest for the smeets?” Dib asked, teeth chattering.

Zim whined, sitting down with a visible jiggle.

“Just give me one of those — I’m going to be late for class,” Dib sighed, hand outstretched.

“You?” Zim asked, carefully extricating a single towel from the nest.

“Yeah, you should probably sit this one out,” Dib said, catching the towel as Zim threw it to him and hurriedly drying off.

Zim’s antennae stood on end. “ _What_?? No, I’m coming with you!”

“And if you decide to start laying eggs mid-lecture?” Dib asked with a skeptical eyebrow raise.

Zim dropped what he was doing and scurried over to the desk in the corner of the room, retrieved a piece of paper, and shoved it at Dib, who read it over while looking rather put-upon.

“Please excuse Zim. He has a medical condition. Signed, Dr. Babwe,” Dib read aloud. He looked over the top of the paper to see Zim wearing a self-satisfied smile. “Really? Dr. Zim Babwe? _That’s_ what you’re going with?”

“It worked back in high school just fine!” Zim said defensively.

“Are you sure about that? Because I’m _pretty_ _sure_ they suspected something was up after the fifth time both of us had Dengue Fever. They were just too eager to finally see the backs of us to argue about it.”

Zim crossed his arms, looking sullen. “ _Fine_. I’ll just email all our professors and tell them that I’m pregnant. Plenty of people get pregnant in college.”

“Yeah, it’s just that most of them don’t stay that way,” Dib said under his breath as Zim waddled his way to the dresser.

“Eh? Say what?” Zim asked, pulling out the stretchy-waisted jeans that had replaced his usual loud choice of leggings.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Dib asked, rephrasing.

“Gaz’s friends didn’t ask any questions,” Zim replied with a shrug.

“Yeah, well, Gaz’s friends also all think you’re a trans guy.”

“So let the administration think the same thing!”

Dib gave him a wry look. “Yeah, I’m sure _that’s_ the first place our 50 year old professor’s mind is gonna go. Look, I just don’t want to have to explain your gender, or why we’re having kids _now_ to literally anyone.”

Zim looked hurt. “So you’d rather _abandon_ me??”

Dib rolled his eyes. “Zim …” 

“Oh Irk … you’re _embarrassed_ by me, aren’t you??” he wailed, sinking to the floor, one foot still stuck in his pant leg. 

“Can’t imagine why I would be …” Dib muttered, turning away to rifle through his dresser.

“Fine, Dib!! Just leave me!!”

Dib looked over and was shocked to see actual tears in Zim’s eyes. He hurried over and kneeled in front of his emotional mate.

“Christ, I didn’t think you were actually hurt over this,” he said, feeling a little bad. He was used to Zim’s flair for the dramatic but not quite as used to Zim’s emotional skin being thinner than tissue paper. Zim flung his arms around Dib’s neck and sniffled into his shoulder pathetically.

“I don’t want to be away from you for any amount of time,” Zim said sadly as Dib soothingly stroked his antennae.

“Okay, okay. Let’s just email everyone and let them know we’re expecting … err … kids in the next few months. We don’t have any of the same professors from last semester and once they see you in class, nobody is going to argue with you.”

“Wussat s’posed to mean?” Zim mumbled.

“Well, you’re not really my _little_ bug anymore, are you?” Dib said gently.

“Hmph …”

Finding clothes had been a genuine challenge in the past month. Dib had picked up sewing just so he could alter pants that would fit Zim’s short, ever-expanding frame. Initially, Zim had just taken to borrowing Dib’s hoodies, but had soon graduated from those as well. The current ones were so large that they normally would have fallen to his knees, if not for his belly being in the way.

“You’re so much softer now,” Dib said with a nuzzle and a kiss. That was usually Zim’s kryptonite. To his relief, Zim purred and gave him a kiss back. “Finish getting dressed. If we’re going to class together, we should leave soon so we can catch the campus shuttle.”

It was unfortunate that Zim was both heavier and a much more unwieldy shape nowadays, because his mobility was starting to become limited. He was winded after even short walks and Dib had gotten used to Zim sticking his feet in his face and demanding foot rubs several times a day. Even by the time they’d walked around the corner to the bus stop, Zim was panting and made a beeline for the bench. He sat down on it heavily and leaned sideways against Dib for warmth.

He sighed and looked up at Dib with puppy eyes. “Dib …”

“Uh-oh …” That look was never a good start to a conversation.

“I’ve been craving sweets for the past few days and I feel like it’s going to kill me,” Zim moaned. “What do you think the chances are we could nip over to Irken space and pick up some snacks? I’ve almost run through my reserves …”

Dib stared at him blankly.

“What?” Zim asked innocently.

“I don’t think I need to tell _you_ that, much like Mordor, one does not simply ‘nip over to Irken space’. Do you _want_ to end up either working for Sizz-Lorr for the rest of your life or shipped off to R&D?”

“No,” Zim said sulkily. “I just want _my_ Fun Dip because _yours_ sucks.” He kicked his feet irritably. “Maybe Lard Nar can get me in touch with that friend of his,” he muttered under his breath. “Whip me up something that will cure this damn craving —”

“Lard Nar??” Dib said suddenly. “You’re not _seriously_ still talking to that psycho are you?”

Zim shrunk back, chastised. So much for ever bringing up the possibility of forgiving the Vortian.

“Zim,” Dib said with more gravity than Zim had ever witnessed. “He _kidnapped_ you. _Spied_ on us. Zapped me clear across the galaxy when he wasn’t positive I wouldn’t end up half fused together with the neighbors’ dog. I get that he’s the dad you never had, but if _those_ are your standards, you may as well just take mine off my hands.”

Zim looked away, fuming. He was thankful that the bus chose then to appear, so he didn’t have to think of something cutting to say to Dib. He stomped his way onto the bus and felt his stomach drop when he saw how crowded it was. He wasn’t about to stand on this swaying tin can for the next several minutes, and thanks to the disclaimer over the inwards-facing seats, he didn’t have to. “Priority seating for persons who are pregnant, disabled, or less able to stand,” the disclaimer read. Zim was certainly at least _one_ of those things.

He chose his victim — a scrawny freshman on the end — made aggressive eye contact, glanced at the disclaimer, then back at the nonplussed passenger.

“You don’t look like you’ve got a disability, dude,” the kid said, going back to scrolling on his phone.

 _That_ was about it for Zim this morning. He stood to his full 4’10”, green Ugg boots planted firmly on the rumbling floor of the bus, roughly shoved up the sleeves on his purple, rhinestone-emblazoned “Princess” hoodie, and leaned in close.

“I’m _pregnant_ , you shitstain,” he growled.

The kid blanched and quickly vacated the seat. Zim flopped down, only to see Dib smirking from above him. Zim crossed his arms and looked away.

“After everything that happened this morning, you’re not really going to spend the whole day following me around to classes while being absolutely pissed at me, are you?”

“I dunno. Maybe I will,” Zim said snidely.

Dib sighed, leaning against the schedule display and pushing a lump of snow around with his boot. “I’m sorry, okay?” he said softly. “I’m still not even sure Lard Nar isn’t responsible for why I was so sick. I dunno when I’ll stop being mad at him. But the dad comment was uncalled for. I just want you to be safe. I’m … scared he might try to take you away from me again.”

Zim reached out and took his hand, then held it to his cheek. Being apart from Dib again like that was the last thing he wanted.

“My feelings about Lard Nar are complicated, but my feelings about you aren’t. And I did make you promise we wouldn’t fight,” he replied.

The bus came to a stop near their building and Dib helped Zim to his feet and signaled for the driver to lower the vehicle so Zim didn’t need to awkwardly waddle onto the sidewalk. They made their way to class and it didn’t take long for Dib to recognize previous classmates in the hallways and pick up on their bewildered glances. All he could really do was keep Zim close and hope people kept their distance like usual. They took seats at the table in the back of the classroom, away from curious eyes.

Having to be back in public after several weeks of winter vacation was a bit of a culture shock for both of them. Even around Gaz and her friends, they usually shared a seat or Zim would sit in Dib’s lap. For the duration of class, Dib kept having to nudge Zim back over into his own publicly acceptable bubble of space every time he tried to lean against Dib or toss a leg over Dib’s lap. Dib was grateful when the lecture finally wrapped up, and took his time repacking his bag so that the room would be mostly empty when he and Zim approached the professor about their situation. 

“I’m guessing you’re the one who sent the email this morning?” the professor said when they finally made their way over. She glanced at Zim with a perplexed look that Dib hoped had gone over Zim’s head.

“Yeah, I know it’s a bit of an odd situation,” Dib said with an embarrassed laugh. “There’s a chance we’ll need to either dash from class or miss it on short notice, so I just wanted for you to be aware. Then there’s the question of parental leave …”

The professor waved her hands. “Don’t worry about that. Just clear it with the school and you can take as much time as you need. I’ve heard the two of you are more than capable students.” She gave Zim a genuine smile. “Which is good, because you’re going to have your hands full with that kid, if they’re anywhere near as smart as you.”

Relief washed over Dib and he hoped the rest of the day would go equally as smooth. “We’re already childproofing the lab at home,” he said with a grin. “So, what do I need to clear it with the school?” Dib asked.

“Just a marriage certificate. They might ask for a doctor’s note if they’re feeling picky, but, well …” She looked Zim up and down. “I think that should be all you need.”

Dib’s heart sank. “Oh. Yeah. Of course. Thanks.”

“I’m looking forward to an interesting semester,” she said as they turned to leave.

“Totally. Us too,” Dib said with a plastered-on grin. He hurried Zim out the door. “Shit,” he said as soon as they were partway down the hall. “We need to get a marriage certificate as soon as possible.”

“Psh, compared to the time I had to declare myself legally dead in the state of Missouri? Should be a cake walk to just make one tonight,” Zim said with blasé confidence.

Dib chewed his lip thoughtfully. “What if … I want to actually do it, though?”

Zim gave him a quizzical look. “Nuh-Uh, Dib. _No way._ After the headache it took to get _my_ death certificate? And I _told you_ , nobody suspects you anyway so—.”

“Not _that_ , dummy,” Dib said with a playful swat. “I mean … what if I want to make things earth-official with you?”

Zim’s eyes widened. “What, like with the rings and fluffy white dresses and loads of people in a religious building?”

“We can skip the dress and the church and the people,” Dib said with a laugh. “But it might be kinda nice to have me be legally yours, right?”

“Legally?” Zim perked up suddenly.

“That’s what it boils down to,” Dib said with a shrug, but he knew he had Zim’s attention now. “The ceremony is really just a way to dress up a formal legal agreement.”

“An agreement that says you belong to me.”

“And vice-versa. But yeah.”

“Huh …”

Dib could see the gears turning in Zim’s head. “We could text Gaz and ask if she’ll officiate,” Dib offered.

“If she’s willing to give you to me, that makes it extra official,” Zim reasoned. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

Dib sent Gaz a text with the relevant details and got back a hasty “YES” in all-caps.

“Looks like Gaz is in,” Dib said, tucking his phone into his pocket and pulling Zim close. “How soon do you want to do this?”

“I want you to be mine _now_ ,” Zim whined. “I know you’re my mate, but I want to put the tiny collar on your finger so all the pathetic humans know you belong to a higher life form.”

Dib looked down to see Zim grinning at him. If he had to blindly guess when Zim was being deliberately strange versus normal Zim-brand strange, he would only be right about half the time.

“How’s Friday night sound?” he asked. “That’ll give us time to get the whole gaming group together. Hopefully you’re not going to pop before then.”

It was hard to ignore how huge his mate had gotten — Zim’s jeggings did absolutely nothing to give his thigh jiggle, his huge belly was still obvious under his hoodie, his face had gotten noticeably rounder, and he walked with a noticeable waddle. Before Dib could stop himself, he pinned Zim against the wall, leaning down to kiss him. Zim was still, frozen with momentary shock, before he kissed back, straddling Dib’s leg.

Long gone was any concern over people staring at them. Zim was happy to flip off anyone who dared to comment, and Dib had himself pretty well convinced that anyone who scoffed at their public display of affection was merely jealous.

“There’s time to go back home for a little bit, right?” Zim mumbled against Dib’s lips.

“For you? Always,” Dib replied, breaking away to take his hand and make their way towards home. 

* * *

_III._

_[Wedding Day]_

“And you may now … refrain from kissing because you’re just gonna make it gross somehow,” Gaz said, putting a hand between Dib and a dewy-eyed Zim.

Neither of them had bothered to dress up. Dib was wearing a rather tattered TAPS: Ghost Hunters t-shirt and ripped jeans, and Zim was wearing a massive hoodie over maternity jeggings that were getting rather tight, even with the elastic. If there had to be a wedding, this was exactly the sort of wedding Dib would have wanted. It was low effort and comfortable, and he had everyone he cared about in Gaz’s living room.

It was a little funny how quickly the number of people he cared about had gone from "Zim" to "all of Gaz's nerd friends". Their new found family consisted of computer science and linguistics double-major duo Brokk and Thaxton; the poly triad of Inko (resident robotics expert), Char (chemistry and physics double major), and Aster (astrobiology major); and Mandolyn, who was a forensics major, and currently rolling her eyes at Gaz.

“Aw, come on, Gaz. We didn’t come here to see them not kiss.”

Gaz looked over her shoulder at the little cluster of half a dozen mutual friends and gave her short, blue-haired girlfriend a withering look.

“That's just called a Friday night, Lyn,” she said. "They kiss more than they pay attention to the campaign."

While her back was turned, Zim dodged around her hand and pulled Dib down for a kiss, hand gripping the frayed collar of his shirt. A couple of their friends whooped and Zim could just barely catch a mumbled, “Jesus Christ …” from Gaz. He flipped her a good-natured bird and secretly hoped that someone had bothered to take a picture. That was exactly the wedding photo he wanted printed up and hung on the wall.

He felt Dib starting to use a little tongue and pulled back before it could go any further. Nevertheless, Dib smiled and kissed him between the eyes before standing up straight.

They looked over in time to catch lanky, red headed Brokk and his equally willowy partner, Thaxton, carrying a cake that had to be wider around than Zim to the table.

“That’s gotta be a record for shortest wedding kiss,” Brokk said with a grin.

“I’m only stopping because I want cake,” Zim insisted. As much as Dib never really cared how others perceived him, Zim was still a little leery around so many humans. He didn’t want to do anything that would draw undue attention to himself or possibly make the group dislike him. Despite the fact that this was his wedding, he was well aware that Dib’s heavy public displays of affection often grated on Gaz, and he wanted today to be as conflict-free as possible, for once. He grabbed a suitably large piece of red velvet cake from Thaxton and went to settle down on the couch, where things were much quieter.

Midway through his first bite, a sudden pop above his head made him jump. His eyes snapped up in time to see Lyn behind a shower of confetti.

“You about scared the piss out of me!” Zim wheezed as he sunk back against the couch, heart pounding. “What was that for??”

Lyn sat down next to him, looking sheepish. “Sorry … it was meant to be a less-lethal celebration of your shotgun wedding.”

“Muh whu?” Zim asked through a mouthful of cake.

“You know … that old-timey thing where the father would come to your door with his pregnant kid and ask the person responsible very nicely to do right and marry them?” Lyn said, as if the whole thing were perfectly normal.

Zim just stared blankly. “We, uh, don’t have that where I’m from.” Dib had told everyone that Zim was from a small country in Eastern Europe with the hope that it might keep questions about Zim’s strangeness to a minimum.

“Not really a thing here anymore, either,” Lyn replied, cutting her cake into manageable pieces. Almost a requirement, seeing as it was 3 layers and a good 6 inches thick. “Though the school still has some antiquated requirements. Making you and Dib get married in order to obtain parental leave isn’t even the most ridiculous.”

“Oh?” Zim said with an eyebrow raise. Things like “social progress” were an interesting concept to him, seeing as no immediately obvious analogue existed on Irk.

Lyn nodded. “They won’t let Char live in the on-campus apartments with Inko and Aster because he’s a guy, and the rules say opposite gender roommates have to be married. The only reason Aster is even allowed is because the school doesn’t have a non binary option. They put themself down as a girl so the housing committee wouldn’t give them trouble. Since marriage hasn’t really come around on poly triads yet, Gaz suggested just adding an addition to this place and moving everyone in together.” She smirked at a puzzled-looking Zim. “The perks of having Professor Membrane as a dad. I’m guessing he paid for y’all’s place, too?”

Zim started laughing and inhaled part of his cake, which sent him into an immediate coughing fit. “Hell no!” he sputtered as soon as he got his breath back. “The Professor hates Dib almost as much as he hates me. And I put a hole through his wall, kidnapped his son, and told him to go fuck himself. Though we weren’t exactly on stellar terms before that. Gaz didn’t tell you?”

Lyn’s eyes flicked to the side and then back, her expression nervous. Zim turned to look across the room and found everyone else to be unnervingly still and quiet. Zim glanced over to Dib, who was a color of red previously unknown to man.

“No, I didn’t,” Gaz said softly. “Because I didn’t want to violate Dib's privacy. And because that was sort of the worst day of my life.”

Zim’s insides squirmed uncomfortably, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t the smeets' fault. Everyone in the room was staring awkwardly at the floor in an attempt to avoid making Dib or Gaz uncomfortable.

“I don’t know what Gaz did tell you you, but the reason we hadn’t been speaking until this past month was that I tried to kill myself at the end of high school,” Dib said hoarsely, looking at his feet. “I mean, I tried to do that a lot. Kind of got known for it in school. But that time, I came really close to succeeding. The only reason I didn’t was because Zim broke in, saved me, then told my dad to fuck off. Dad and I had a fight about my career earlier that day and I found out he wasn’t going to pay for anything. Which is why I tried to off myself. The whole thing … sort of caused a rift between Gaz and I.”

A couple of their friends eyed Gaz nervously, and Dib jumped to her defense before she felt the need to say anything. “Me and my dad just never got along, okay? Gaz had a different experience growing up, and I’d never expect her to give up his financial support just for me. On my end, Zim has everything covered so money’s luckily not an issue.”

The room stayed silent, and Dib suddenly wondered if he should have kept quiet. He always felt like a ticking time bomb in middle and high school. When you try to self destruct enough times, people tend to give you a wide berth, lest you explode and rip a hole straight through the life of anyone unlucky enough to have been close to you. He’d hoped that a room full of 20-somethings could be adults about it, but maybe he’d misread the whole thing.

“I wish Char or Inko would tell my dad to fuck off,” Aster said with a soft laugh.

Dib smiled back, relieved.

“What major could be so bad your dad would defund you over it?” Char asked, only for Inko to swat his shoulder.

“You can’t ask things like that!” she said, giving Dib an apologetic look. "This guy, I swear ..."

“It’s fine,” Dib assured her. “I feel stupid about it now, but I really thought I was going to be a cryptozoologist.”

“Do we even have a department for that?” Char asked with a quizzical expression.

“We do,” Dib replied. “It kinda sucks. Astronomy is a safer bet and I want any chance I can take to get off this miserable rock, so …” He shrugged.

“Ugh, I hear you,” Thaxton chimed in. “If you find aliens, send them my way.”

“You just wanna get probed,” Brokk said with a smirk.

“Oh, and you don’t??”

Dib couldn’t help but feel genuine happiness as he watched the lot of them rib each other. It was a relief to have found a group of people who didn't judge either him or Zim, and didn't hold any of the things they found out about him against him. It was nice to be able to be open about his life, without worrying that he'd be forever haunted by what a fuckup he'd been in years past.

When their friends finally filtered out well after midnight, Gaz did a cursory round of cleaning, then flopped down on the couch next to the happy couple.

"Thank fuck everyone came hungry," she sighed, reaching down to pet Lionel, who had sat down next to her side of the couch. "I don't think that cake would have fit in the fridge."

“Thanks for hosting all this,” Dib said softly. “I know it was a lot to put together, but it was better than I could have imagined.”

Gaz shrugged. “No worries. I thought I was going to go my whole life without getting to finally marry you off and foist you on somebody else.” She cocked her head in Zim’s direction. “Speaking of … how the hell are you supporting yourself and Dib right now? I know that base is probably leeching off the electrical grid, but you’re still somehow paying double tuition and managing to eat well.”

Zim folded his arms, propping them up on his stomach and nearly obscuring his face. “That’s for me to know, and neither of you to ever find out.”

Dib nodded. “If the FBI comes knocking, it’s easier for all of us if we can claim ignorance.”

Zim just chuckled and snuggled against Dib, making a soft _churr_ ing noise. With one eye partially open, he observed Gaz as she studied their interaction.

“So … everything has been good?” she asked, tone and expression completely neutral, even as Zim shot her a warning glance.

Reminding Dib of his experience post-Vort was the last thing he wanted. With every discussion, he ran the risk of Dib putting the pieces together, or at the very least, asking questions Zim didn’t want to answer.

“If you’re asking if I’m gonna have a mental break again and ditch Zim, that is the furthest thing from my mind,” Dib replied, sounding tired. “Even if he’s stolen all the blankets and all the plushies, and is on the fence about letting me even sleep in our bed.”

“It isn’t _that_ bad,” Zim butted in with an eye roll.

“You’re broody,” Dib said with a shrug. “I assume it’s only natural, so I won’t hold it against you.”

Zim mumbled something to the effect of, “ _We’ll see who gets what held against who, tonight,_ ” as Dib ruffled his hat patronizingly.

They settled back into a silence that was only broken by Dib repeatedly running his fingers through his hair. He bit his cheek to try and quell the rising tide of questions, but they begged to be let free.

Gaz gave him a quizzical look.

“Sorry," Dib said, putting his hand in his lap. "My mind just keeps going back to that weird fucking illness."

"Why? It was probably just intergalactic food poisoning, right?" Gaz asked.

"I told Lard Nar that eating lizards on our last day was a bad idea," Zim said, exasperated. "But does he listen to me? Of course not!"

"I mean, maybe that's all it was. But I just can’t shake the thought that Lard Nar was running some kind of experiment on me,” Dib said, fixing the far wall with an intense stare, as if it had all the answers but was holding out on him. “Like … I’m trying to put all that behind me because I feel absolutely awful about it. But the whole thing just keeps bugging me.”

“Why do you think Lard Nar has anything to do with it?” Gaz asked, pointedly ignoring Zim, who kept shooting her looks of varying incredulity.

Dib sighed and deflated slightly. “I don’t know. Because nothing else makes sense, I guess. Maybe it was just because I got beamed across the galaxy in the blink of an eye. But those nightmares I had …” He shuddered. “They were so real. I haven’t experienced anything like that since … shit. Remember in early high school, when I was kind of abusing my ADHD medication?”

“And you stayed up for 3 days straight, bought $1,000 worth of shit off Amazon, and landed yourself in a psych ward because it turned out you’d triggered some latent Bipolar Disorder or something?” Gaz asked, expression wry.

“Yeah, that one was justified,” Dib said flippantly. “What I’m saying is, the withdrawals from that were _insane_. Especially the nightmares. It was like all of the most fucked up shit in my brain came spilling out at once.” He looked up, concerned and fiddling with his sleeves to keep his hands busy. “The nightmares I had earlier in the month were _just like that_. It took everything I was afraid of and splattered the whole thing with horror movie gore.”

He felt suddenly cold as he remembered Zim cradling the obviously dead smeets, telling Dib that anything bad that happened was his fault, not Zim’s, then rapidly disintegrating before Dib’s eyes. His body shuddered involuntarily and he hugged Zim a little closer. Irritatingly, Zim only yawned and stretched in response.

“Dib … I’m getting tired,” he whined, looking up. “Can we get going before we end up having to sleep on the couch?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Dib said, trying to shake off the sudden chill in his bones.

“What’s wrong with my couch?” Gaz asked, feigning offense.

“The fact that it isn't my nest,” Zim shot back.

“You really don’t want him making another one,” Dib warned. “I’ve got all of 3 pairs of underwear, the jeans I’m wearing, and 4 shirts that I managed to save. We’re buying new towels tomorrow.”

“Bet that shit wasn’t in _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ ,” Gaz said, stifling a chuckle.

“Believe me, even if they _made_ a manual for this? He’d _still_ manage to throw in a curveball,” Dib said as Zim made his way to the door, putting Dib safely out of slapping distance.

They bundled up for the walk to the car, and Dib patted Lionel on the head and hugged his sister goodbye before heading out into the night.

Outside, snow crunched beneath their boots and stars shone, cold and crisp above their heads. The inside of Dib’s car was predictably chilly, and Zim quickly turned on the seat warmer Dib had installed in the passenger seat for him. Dib was silent and clearly lost in thought as he put the car in gear and backed down the drive.

“They’re going to be okay, Dib. I promise,” Zim finally piped up as they started down the road. “And I’m going to be okay. They were just nightmares. They can’t hurt you.”

Dib glanced over and took Zim’s hand in his. “I know. I’m just worried that something weird happened to me and I don’t want to ever go through that again.”

Zim rubbed his hand reassuringly. “Whatever it was, I don’t think you’ll have to go through it again.”

Unless, of course, Dib managed to figure out the mystery and detoxed on purpose. But Zim wasn’t going to let that happen. He watched colored lights whiz by, mind wandering, until they were finally outside of the base. Dib parked the car and hurried around to the passenger side to help Zim out. It crossed Zim’s mind to wonder if Dib would be this attentive sans mind control hormones, especially as Dib hurried him out of the cold, helped him shuck all of his winter things, and led him up to bed with a smile.

“You know, in order to warm someone up, it works best if you strip to share body heat,” Dib said with a suggestive eyebrow waggle as they flopped into bed.

Zim leaned in close, eyes trained on Dib’s lips. “In that case, I’m freezing,” he murmured as he straddled Dib, kissing him slowly as he leaned back against the mattress.

Did it matter that Dib's life had taken a completely different course, just because Zim happened to naturally produce mind-altering chemicals? Especially since these changes would soon be permanent, did Zim really need to worry over any of it?

He slowly opened his eyes, meeting Dib's hazy gaze for a moment, then kissed down Dib's neck. He rested against Dib's chest and sighed contentedly. He could at least stop worrying for tonight.

“So … you’re mine now,” he whispered, clasping his mate’s hand. “In every possible sense.”

“Guess you own me,” Dib replied with a smirk.

“That means I own your cock too, right?” Zim asked, grinding against him.

“Yep, that’s all yours, too,” Dib assured him, eyelids fluttering.

Zim moaned, resting his head on Dib’s shoulder while shamelessly humping his growing erection. It pressed up between Zim’s legs, stimulating the landing strip of nerve clusters just above where his cock would normally be. Dib was absolutely hard enough to stretch him to his limits and then some.

“I want that in me,” Zim whimpered into Dib’s shirt. He was drooling a little, but he hoped that had escaped Dib’s notice.

“We’re married now and I’ve been your mate for years, and that’s still how you tell me you want me to fuck you?” Dib said with a laugh before kissing Zim’s neck.

“Do you want me to just strip and straddle it?? Because I can do that too!” Zim huffed. He pulled his shirt off, then attempted to pull off his leggings. He struggled to get them past his hips and laid against Dib’s stomach in an attempt to get a better angle, wriggling in vain for a solid minute before giving up. It seemed that was not actually something he could do.

“Diiiib … I’m stuck,” he whined tearfully.

“And hormonal and emotional … and _very_ cute. Which is lucky for you,” Dib added, reaching down to free Zim’s lower half. He wriggled beneath Zim to strip himself down as well, kicking off his jeans and boxers and socks. As soon as his cock was free, Zim dropped down on top of it, chirping loudly as he pleasured himself. Dib watched Zim’s thighs and rolls jiggle, stars bursting in his vision every time Zim dropped down with his full weight. Dib grabbed his hip and thrust upwards, cock compressed on all sides by Zim’s tight, slick hole.

“Fuck Fuck Fuck yes! Come in me … I need you to come in me …” Zim begged.

“Is this just because you want me to cream you and eat you out again?” Dib asked, eyes half open as Zim frantically rubbed against him, chest pressed against his and hands clamped firmly on his shoulders.

“Yes … _no_ … I just need to feel you filling me up,” Zim insisted. "The bouncing motion is absolutely murdering my thighs, though. This is easier ..." He pressed his face into Dib's shirt, grinding so hard that the bed had begun to shake and squeak in protest. He finally looked up at Dib, then slumped against him, panting. “ _Dammit_ … I keep forgetting grinding doesn’t do anything for you,” he grumbled. “But it feels good to take you that deep …”

Dib kisses his cheek. “I’ll live. Watching you enjoy yourself is hot.”

Zim whined. “But I want you to get off … I _need it_ , Dib!”

“Sometimes you can’t have it both ways.”

“Too bad! Zim _demands_ it!”

Dib’s eyes suddenly widened with what Zim could only interpret as unrestrained glee.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to break out for a while,” he said, nudging Zim off of him. He leaned over the side of the bed and slid out one of the storage bins, rummaging through it until he found what he was looking for. He unboxed a Christmas-tree-shaped glass object with a flared base that Zim couldn’t quite make sense of.

“I’ll probably need some lube,” Dib muttered to himself, turning to search for it in the storage bin before letting out a soft “oh!” and turning back towards Zim. “This’ll do,” he said with a smirk, pushing Zim’s legs apart.

“Dib?” Zim said skeptically. “What are you — oh!!!” It was immediately clear that, whatever Dib had just put inside him, it was considerably wider than Dib’s cock. “That’s huge,” he whimpered, toes curling. He could only imagine how hard he could get off with something that big stretching him. All too quickly, Dib pulled it back out again. Zim’s eyes shot open just as he started to protest, but he was at a loss for words as he caught Dib shoving the thing up his own ass.

Dib felt Zim’s eyes on him and glanced over. “What?” he asked blankly.

“Whu… why did you …?” Zim sputtered.

“It’s a butt plug, Zim,” Dib replied, laying back. “That’s where it’s _supposed_ to go.”

Zim wilted. “Is this because I don’t have my dick??”

Dib raised an eyebrow, bewildered. “What?? Of course not.” He reached out a hand but Zim leaned away. “Please get back over here, Zim. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I love watching your face when you’re grinding on me, but if you want me to get off while you do that, I’m gonna need a little help.”

“But … it should be me,” Zim said miserably.

“You’re … jealous of the butt plug?” Dib asked skeptically. The idea of Zim being jealous of an inanimate object was as on-brand as it was ludicrous.

Zim’s antennae drooped behind his head and he looked away, blushing. “Not _jealous_ … it’s just taking my job … what _should be_ my job ...”

Dib reached for his hand and gently tugged. Zim gave a beleaguered sigh and mounted Dib again, making his cock disappear in one fluid motion.

“You don’t really want to fuck me in the ass, do you?” Dib asked, eyes closed. He could almost imagine that the current appliance nestled between his ass cheeks was Zim’s tentacle. As much as he didn’t believe Zim would actually be into that, he had to admit the mental image was hot. Especially if Zim used some of that extra weight to hold him down …

Zim tapped his cheek. “Hello?? Are you listening??”

Dib looked up sheepishly. “Sorry. I was picturing you with your cock in my ass … I had kind of always assumed that you were too grossed out by that sort of thing to ever try.”

Zim sat back slightly, shifting so that his hands were braced against Dib’s legs. “Sex is gross, Dib. But you’re _moderately less disgusting_ than you could be, and I want the experience of getting to fuck you.” He reached between Dib’s legs, fingers brushing his balls and trailing further downwards until they hit flared glass. He gently pressed in, causing Dib to let out a shocked whimper.

“I know it’s inferior, but pretend that’s me,” Zim whispered, rolling his hips against Dib as he continued to gently Fuck Dib with his own toy.

Dib reached out to steady Zim, hands on his hips. “You’d be so much better,” Dib squeaked out.

“I’m certainly thicker, for one thing,” Zim panted, puffing his chest out a little. “And longer. And prehensile, so we could probably Fuck each other at the same time, if you really wanted.”

“Hold me down,” Dib begged.

“Well, yeah, I just said it was prehensile, so of course my hands would be free to—”

“No, I mean right now. Hold me down, Zim … please …” Dib put his hands on either side of his head and Zim leaned down to pin them to the bed. He bucked his hips up, muscles squeezing around the toy in his ass. “You can keep grinding on me … that plug is hitting all the right spots every time you move,” he said, breath shaky.

Zim leaned down and kissed him, hands releasing his wrists, fingers sliding between his own instead. Despite the fact that Zim was a solid foot and a half shorter, his extra padding meant that he absolutely enveloped Dib.

And Dib was undeniably loving it. He let Zim slide his tongue most of the way down his throat and relaxed into the mattress as every thrust from Zim’s hips shifted the plug in his ass just enough to pleasure him, the tip bumping against his own internal pleasure button and pushing him closer and closer to release.

Zim suddenly kicked his leg back behind him, hooking it over Dib’s thigh. He ran a toe up Dib’s leg, then used it to push the plug in his ass just a little bit deeper. Dib’s eyelids fluttered and he gripped Zim’s hands. Zim released and then pushed the toy in a little further, causing Dib to let out a strangled shout as he abruptly climaxed.

It took Zim a moment to catch on to what had just happened, but as soon as he did, he let out a soft exclamation and rode Dib that much harder, kissing him desperately as fluids pooled between their bodies. His tongue finally retracted so that he could let out a proper moan as he finally came, trembling and clinging to Dib’s shoulders.

Dib kissed Zim’s flushed cheeks as they relaxed into each other’s arms, breathing heavily. “Do you want me to—?”

He was more than a little shocked when Zim shook his head, cutting him off.

“Just cuddle me.” Zim rolled to the side, propping himself up slightly on the pillows and giving Dib puppy eyes.

Dib cast him a slightly concerned look as he sat up and shimmied closer. “Is everything okay?”

Zim nodded, then nuzzled against his neck. “Yeah. I just want to be held for a little bit.”

Dib held him close, one arm around his middle and the other hand occupied with stroking his antennae. Zim snuggled against his body, unsure of what to do with the sudden wave of guilt that had assaulted him.

He’d been trying to ignore it for a while now, but he felt awful about keeping the pair bonding process a secret from Dib. Not to mention how terrified he was of Dib discovering on his own and detoxing off him out of spite. He wanted to tell Dib and get it all over with, but fear kept his mouth glued shut.

“You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you,” Dib murmured. It hadn’t been lost on him the way that Zim squeezed his eyes shut and pressed close out of what seemed to be more a need for comfort than anything else.

“Everything’s fine,” Zim said, feeling worse for lying out loud.

“Okay, well, if you change your mind and decide that it _isn’t_ , just know that I’m your husband now,” Dib said with a hug. “And that means I’m not legally allowed to divorce you for anything unless we get counseling first.”

“ _How nice of you_ ,” Zim said, eyes narrowed.

“I’m just joking,” Dib assured him. “Well, I mean, that’s an _actual_ thing. But I can’t even think of anything you could possibly tell me that would make me that angry.”

Zim had to admit that he felt like Dib just wasn’t being creative enough. He was moderately certain that, “Our entire relationship is built on a foundation of lies,” was _instant_ grounds for annulment. And if it wasn’t, well, he felt like it probably should be.

“I’m just …” He felt sick even imagining the words leaving his mouth. He tried again, but the confession lodged in his throat and no sound came out. He abruptly detoured to the closest not-lie instead. “I’m just worried about the future,” he whispered.

At least that was _a_ truth, if not _the_ truth.

“I get it. Things are changing fast,” Dib said gently, staring at the ceiling and oblivious to the alien having a crisis beside him. “I can’t even believe we’re going to be parents. Sometimes I just stare at myself in the mirror and say, ‘Dib, you’re going to be a dad.’ And it still all feels like a dream.”

“Oh, is _that_ why I hear you talking to yourself in there?” Zim asked, looking up with a smirk. He could shake off his worry, if only to tease Dib a little. “I was going to ask if you needed a cheering section while you’re taking a dump.”

Dib swatted him playfully over the head. “You’re such an ass,” he laughed, cuddling Zim and kissing him all over. “But you’re my ass and I love you. Fucking dummy.”

Zim purred and nuzzled under Dib’s chin despite the insults. There was a time when Dib would have called him those things with ire, not mirth. He was glad that those times were getting harder and harder to recall with every passing day.

“We’re gonna make it through this,” Dib said softly, relaxing against Zim's soft body. “I promise. No matter how weird or scary things get. There’s no one I’d rather go through this with. No one else I’d be willing to go through this with, really.”

He slid a hand up Zim's side, slowly, as if he hoped Zim might not notice. It came to rest on Zim's breast, where he traced slow circle around his nipple. Zim's chest had been looking fuller of late. It was hard not to notice the difference every time he took his shirt off, and Dib was fascinated. He watched as Zim's nipple grew hard under his touch and as he pressed his thumb against it, he was shocked to see a small rivulet of milk dribble out. 

“Are you … weirded out by all the things my body is doing?” Zim asked nervously, watching Dib’s fingers as they brushed against his skin. This wasn't the most comfortable topic of conversation, but it was better than trying to expertly dance around the topic of their future together.

“Huh?” Dib looked up, shaken from whatever thought he had been lost in.

“I-it’s okay if you are!” Zim said hurriedly. “I’m definitely weirded out by it.”

There were times in the past few weeks when he’d caught a glimpse of his body in the mirror or looked down and didn’t recognize himself. He was nervous over how many of these changes would be permanent and what that might mean for the two of them once things officially got more complicated. Would Dib still be attracted to him once the novelty wore off?

“I'm not weirded out,” Dib insisted, blushing. “I mean, it’s … the _opposite_ of that, really …”

“Eh?” Zim cocked his head and perked an antenna quizzically as he tried to work out what the opposite would be.

Dib looked a little like he wanted the bed to swallow him up. He turned away and hugged his legs to his chest. “I just keep wondering …” he mumbled, “Um … I want to know what it … what it _tastes like_ …” He trailed off, mortified that he’d actually given voice to the strange thoughts drifting through his mind. Why couldn’t he just be _normal_ for once?? Where did these thoughts and desires even _come from_??

“Oh,” Zim said softly, eyes widening. So that was the opposite of “weirded out”. “Oh. Alright. Um …” He certainly didn’t have a response prepared for _that_ revelation.

Dib moved away and buried his face in his hands. “You don’t have to do anything about it. I’m sorry I told you. Next time I’ll just keep all my weird thoughts in my head. Where they belong.”

Zim took one of Dib’s hands by the wrist and pulled it from his face. “Dib … it’s okay. Do you want to try? Because if you really want to … I’m okay with it.”

“I think I might die of embarrassment,” Dib muttered.

"Look, they've been aching like crazy all day, and I can't really ignore it any more," Zim admitted, blushing. "You'd be doing me a favor."

"It just seems kinda ... fetish-y."

"Which makes it different from any of the other weird stuff you're into _because_ ...?"

Dib looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, even if it meant being transported bare-ass naked into their neighbors' living room. "Those are for the _smeets_ , Zim. I feel like it's a line I maybe shouldn't cross ..."

"Pfft. Smeets don't have a monopoly on these titties," Zim scoffed.

"I don't want to make breastfeeding a sexual thing, okay?" Dib finally admitted. "I don't want to make it weird for you."

"Who said it had to be sexual for me?" Zim asked, one antenna perked quizzically.

" _Nobody_! But ... I just ...!"

“Oh, stop making excuses and get over here,” Zim said, laying back against the pillows. He looked sideways at his mate, but Dib didn’t move. “Come on …" Zim coaxed. "It’ll be just like cuddling, except closer.”

Dib moved over, turning to face Zim before leaning in against his chest and wrapping his arms around him for stability. He looked up, radiating nervous energy, but Zim just bent down to kiss him on the nose.

“Perfect. Just like that.”

Zim put one hand to his breast, and steadied Dib’s head with the other. Dib just closed his eyes — hoping that not seeing might make the whole process less emotionally fraught — and trusted Zim to guide him. When soft skin brushed against his lips, he instinctively closed his mouth around it, tongue working underneath as he started to suckle. He didn’t let himself stop to think or question any of his actions; his mind was a loud, fast, close cacophony of blind panic up until the moment warm, honey-sweet milk flooded his mouth. Everything after that faded into a serene haze where all he could feel and smell and taste was Zim, who let out a long sigh above him and hugged him close against his body.

The realization that all he really wanted at that moment was to be held and fussed over gently floated into Dib’s brain, and he very nearly felt bad about it. But it was hard to feel bad about much at all when he was this close to Zim, getting all of his love and attention.

“There’s a good Dib,” Zim said softly, brushing Dib’s unruly bangs from his face. His mate looked absolutely blissful and Zim would have been lying if he said it felt anything other than amazing to have Dib latched on, drinking from him. The sort of love he felt for Dib in that moment was unlike anything he'd felt before. It was pure and uncomplicated, washing away all of his worries and uncertainty. If Zim had ever, even for a moment, been concerned that Dib was anything less than his soul mate, that doubt was crushed under a tidal wave of unconditional love. For once in his life, Zim felt whole.

He hummed softly — something pop-punk that he knew Dib liked — and rubbed Dib’s back, noting how his entire body had begun to relax. It was rare that Dib’s general energy wasn’t a tidal wave of frantic worry. Feeling his human move from trembling and hesitant to allowing Zim to hold him while he nursed made Zim’s entire body flood with love.

When Dib had drank everything dry, Zim carefully nudged his lips away. This seemed to upset Dib slightly, as he whined softly and resisted Zim's gentle motions.

“Do you want to do the other side, too?” Zim asked, lovingly stroking his cheek. He found himself desperately hoping that Dib did. He felt like the shoreline when the waves rolled back out; empty and yearning for the next time the surf lapped against the sand.

Dib nodded, hazy-eyed, too blissed out to speak. Zim guided him over, loving how Dib eagerly took his nipple into his mouth and sucked, making soft little noises on every warm exhale against Zim’s skin. They were different then the noises he made while they were making love, and it hadn’t escaped Zim’s notice that Dib hadn’t gotten turned on once during this whole thing. Neither had Zim. It seemed that Dib's worry was, once again, completely unfounded. As it was, Zim revelled in finding new ways to make his human all kinds of happy.

He gently ran his fingers through Dib’s hair, enjoying a moment of completely desexualized closeness for the first time in a long while. He took in Dib’s body; thin, pale, and covered in scars, legs tucked up to his chest and resting against Zim’s flank. His human was so soft and fragile, and Zim loved him completely for it.

When Dib finally finished the other side off as well, Zim once again thumbed his lips aside to prompt him to let go. This time Dib willingly let go, looking content and satiated. He rested against Zim's belly, eyes closed, a slight hint of milk on his mouth. Zim wiped it off with the back of his hand and Dib’s eyes shot open, no longer stuck in a far-off gaze, but wide and concerned.

“Fuck … _I’m so sorry_ … I can’t believe I did that,” he said in a rush as his face rapidly fell and he started to turn away. Zim grabbed him and held him close.

“You didn't do anything wrong …” Zim murmured.

Dib looked up at him, regret written all over his expression.

" _Please_ don't look at me like that," Zim begged, reaching down to stroke his cheek.

"I feel like I shouldn't have done that," Dib warbled, his aura bleeding misery.

“Look …” Zim pressed his forehead to Dib’s, unable to suppress a smile when the overwhelming scent of milk rolled off his mate. “Oh, you smell like me …” Zim whispered as he gently ruffled Dib’s hair. “I absolutely enjoyed everything that just happened. Not to mention ... Nobody got hurt. We didn’t make the world a worse place. You need to learn that it’s okay to enjoy things.”

“Why are all the things I enjoy either fucked up or weirdly niche?” Dib asked hoarsely, sounding like he was already midway into a self-hating death spiral.

Zim sighed, stroking Dib’s hair in an attempt to calm him down somewhat. “I don’t know, Dib. But you need to stop beating yourself up for being happy. What you did felt good and I enjoyed bonding with you like that, alright?”

Dib felt like he was being torn in two directions. On the one hand, he felt immense shame for indulging the way he had. On the other … Having a belly full of sweet, warm milk meant he was struggling to stay awake or care about much of anything outside of snuggling up with Zim and falling asleep in his arms.

"I enjoyed it so much, I might have to ask you to do it again some time ..."

"Okay, fine. If you're just going to beg me to do it, then I'll do it," Dib mumbled sleepily.

Zim watched as his human struggled to keep his eyes open. “Just once more ... It would suck if that became our bedtime ritual, or something,” he whispered, kissing Dib’s cheek. “But for now ... just cuddle with me and know that everything you did made me happy …” He nuzzled against his mate, wishing more than anything that he could physically excise Dib’s pain and confusion and guilt. “And I want you to be happy, too. Can you do that for me?”

Dib opened his eyes and looked up, feeling trapped by Zim’s pleading pomegranate gaze. As Zim gently stroked his cheek, all of his shame began to melt away. Zim was right. They both enjoyed it. No harm was done. Why should he be embarrassed when Zim had initiated it and clearly wanted it to happen? To the point of heavily insinuating that he wanted this to become A Thing for them.

“I can be happy for you,” he replied, barely audible.

Zim beamed. “Good. Now, quit trying to stay awake. You look like you’re fighting a losing battle.”

“Do you want to switch? I should be holding you … I’m laying on you, and you’re pregnant…” Dib mumbled through sleepy lips that didn’t quite feel up to the task of forming coherent words.

“Nah. I want to hold you, for once.” He went back to stroking Dib’s hair and humming, smiling when he finally felt Dib readjust slightly, then relax completely against him with a contented sigh.

Zim tucked a flyaway lock of hair behind Dib’s ear. With Dib cuddled against him, Zim could almost make himself forget all of his worries. He was warm and loved and Dib had no reason to want to derail any of the peace and happiness they’d found in one another. He could feel himself drifting, but a sudden vibration from his crumpled pile of clothes coaxed his brain back to consciousness. He reached over and dug around in his pocket until he pulled out his phone, blinking as the screen momentarily blinded him.

He had a single text from Gaz. It was only 5 words, but it felt like being gutted with frozen steel.

“Who’ssat?” Dib mumbled against his neck.

Zim turned his phone off and shoved it under his pillow. “Just Gaz. Congratulating us again,” he lied. He hated how easily the words spilled from his lips. But it was easier than facing the massage he had received. He was terrified of the consequences of what he had to do, and a little upset with Gaz for pushing, even though he knew she was absolutely right.

Her words echoed ceaselessly in his head as he tried desperately to fade back into unconsciousness.

_“You have to tell him.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You just found a new kink, didn't you?


	14. Everything Starts Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim finally comes clean to Dib about his continued involvement with Lard Nar.  
> The eggs arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a nightmare sequence right out of the gate. It's October and my brain is in horror mode.
> 
> Also — and this is VERY important — Lyn has an Australian accent. 
> 
> TW/CWs for this chapter: suicide, gore, v* mention, egg laying nastiness, breastfeeding

_You can tell me anything and I'll listen  
I might even know what to say  
But either way, at least I'll be there_

\- Daði Freyr, _[Think About Things](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFZNvj-HfBU)_

* * *

_I._

Zim sat on the couch, golden sunlight spilling into the room and making it impossible to discern what was happening on the TV screen. He turned to the side and opened his mouth, only to remember that Dib wasn't there. He leaned against the arm of the couch and pulled out his phone to check the time. 

3:45pm. 

Dib had been gone a long while. Or, at least, it _felt_ like it had been a long while. What had Dib gone to do, anyhow? Zim honestly couldn’t remember. Every time he tried, he felt his brain skip like a record.

He looked back down at his phone. 8:15pm.

 _That_ didn’t seem right. But nothing seemed right, so he slid off the couch and went to look for his human. Staying in the living room had begun to make him feel uneasy, though he couldn't put his finger on exactly why. He padded across the floor, trying to avoid making any noise. Interrupting the silence felt close to sacrilege. As he started up the stairs, it suddenly dawned on him that the room around him was lacking certain details he _knew_ were normally present. The snack bowls and empty Suck Monkey containers GIR usually left laying all over were mysteriously missing, the stains on the couch were absent, and even the TV wasn't making a sound. What he had been picking up on, unconsciously, was the fact that room was too clean, the couch too red, the house so uncharacteristically silent.

“What kind of an Irken dreams?” Zim grumbled to himself.

Other Irkens didn’t even particularly _need_ sleep, but Zim had been the odd one out in his brood for sneaking off to find a dark place to doze in between lessons. When he discovered that no one else could do the neat trick of passing out for several hours while hallucinating vividly enough to create entire alternate timelines, he decided to just keep that secret to himself. He very rarely had straight-up nightmares, but he could already tell that _this_ particular dream was veering off in a dangerous direction.

He pinched himself gently. While he could feel a strange sort of diffuse pain that was hard to place, it was hardly enough to wake him up. He looked nervously up the stairs and realized that the sun had already gone down. The lights were all on, but that did nothing to dispel the aura of something being just slightly _wrong_ about the whole scenario. Zim took one cautious step up the stairs, only to freeze when he heard the bed creak up on the second floor.

“Zim? Are you down there?”

It sounded like Dib. But, of course, it wasn't. Not really.

Zim shook his head silently and tried to back down the staircase. As footfalls signaled someone walking towards him, he panicked and threw himself at the landing. Surely _that_ would wake him up! Right before his face smashed into the—

Zim opened his eyes as a tug at his spine pulled him away from the floor, only to find that his PAK legs had somehow deployed. He rolled a short distance before they retracted and he fell on his ass.

“What are you doing?”

Zim looked up to see Dib standing midway down the stairs.

“I tripped,” Zim said hurriedly.

“Oh.” Dib’s face was oddly neutral. 

No concern for the smeets? Zim didn’t know whether to be upset at Dream Dib or upset at his own brain for coming up with this lackluster doppelgänger.

“Can you come up? We need to talk.”

Zim momentarily entertained the thought of attempting to do himself grievous bodily injury with a kitchen knife in a bid to thrust himself into wakefulness. Before he could make a move, however, another thought flitted through his head. What if he used this as a trial run for coming clean to Dib?

With no actual negative consequences for fucking things up, this seemed almost the perfect answer to his worries. Maybe his brain had the right idea in keeping him asleep, after all.

“Yeah. We can talk.” Zim struggled to his feet. Why, in a dream world full of possibilities, was he still gravitationally challenged? This Dib wasn’t particularly endearing himself to Zim, either. He could have at least offered him a hand or a shoulder to steady himself against. Instead, he'd already disappeared up the staircase. Zim followed, feeling like he was trudging through syrup.

As soon as Zim stepped through the door to their bedroom, Dib tossed something across the bed at him. He didn’t even need to look down to know what it was.

“Wanna explain _that_?” Dib asked coldly.

Zim sighed and picked up his tablet. “Yeah, actually I do,” he said as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “First of all, I need you to know that I didn’t know any of this until after I’d gotten back and you left.”

“I didn’t leave. You kicked me out,” Dib said, eyes narrowing.

Zim shrunk back slightly. This wasn’t going very well so far.

“No, you’re right,” Zim admitted. “I kicked you out. I was panicking and I needed you out of my face so I could think. Once I was able to do that, something about the whole situation seemed _off_ to me, so I started reading through the documents I stole from Lard Nar.” Zim picked at a loose thread in the quilt. The fact that this was a dream didn’t make anything easier. “It took me a while to find the paper that mentioned it, but when I found out about the pair bonding pheromones, I called up Lard Nar and reamed him out.”

“Why didn’t you call _me_ and tell me what was going on?” Dib demanded, making Zim’s heart ache.

He considered lying. Or maybe doubling down to justify his decision. In the end, all he could whisper was the truth.

“I was scared.”

“And how do you think I felt??”

Zim couldn’t even look up. “Confused. Terrified. I wanted to tell you, but I was so scared you were going to blame me and leave. I know what happens to Irkens who lose their mate. They get depressed and they die. I don’t want to emotionally blackmail you into staying … but that _is_ a fact and we both know it.”

“So what are you going to do if I do leave?”

The psychological pain that those words triggered was matched only by what he’d felt when he’d kicked Dib from the base. “Keep buggering on, I guess,” he mumbled. “Do my best to be a good parent to the smeets.”

A harsh laugh made Zim look up in shock. Dib had his head in his hands, but his shoulders shook as he chuckled incredulously.

“I don’t believe you, Zim.” Dib looked up, eyes colder and crueler than they had ever looked, even back when they were much younger and Dib had chased him through the streets, threatening to cut him open. “You’re just going to erase my mind every time I figure it out and hope that this time, it takes.”

Zim shook his head soundlessly. Sure, he’d _thought_ about it. But only once. And he wouldn’t have ever actually _done it_.

“What time are we on? Five? Six?” Dib asked with a sardonic eyebrow raise.

“I haven’t,” Zim squeaked out. "I swear, Dib. I didn't do anything to you."

“I looked through the base’s security footage. Don’t lie to me, Zim.”

Zim wanted to scream. Why did he think attempting to have a _logical discussion_ with a figment of his imagination was going to work in his favor?? _Of course_ the whole thing was going to get away from him. There probably wasn’t a single thing he could say here to salvage things, even if it was something that waking-world Dib would have responded to positively.

“I’m not gonna let you wipe my brain again. This is the last time.”

“Wh—” As soon as Zim looked up, his question died on his lips.

Dib was holding a blaster under his chin, finger on the trigger.

“You don’t want to do that,” Zim said shakily, eyes wide and mind racing. He wanted to stand but he felt like he was going to faint if he moved.

“The sick thing about that, Zim, is that neither of us actually knows what I really want at all, do we?” Dib smiled a smile that was all pink gums and pearly teeth and lips pulled taut up to his eyes, and not a _single drop_ of love was contained therein. 

His finger twitched and Zim spun and ducked and pretended he couldn’t hear the snap of a blaster discharging. The world faded into static and he waited for warm, liquid consciousness to flow back into his body and release him from this literal nightmare But when that didn’t come, he opened his eyes, still hoping that he might wake up in bed. His stomach lurched unpleasantly when he realized that he was still in the same room. He lowered his hands from his face and felt a chill strike him as he registered the blood splatter on his hand.

“Wake up … _wake up_ … _WAKE UP!!_ ” he begged, his screams swallowed up by the air around him as if he was in a much, _much_ larger room. “Don’t make me look … _please_ … I don’t want to see him if he’s …” 

Zim couldn’t even bring himself to say it as a sob shook his body. He collapsed in slow motion onto the floor, hand sliding out from under him when he tried to hold himself up. He landed on his side, head just clear of the foot of the bed. He tried to close his eyes, but it was too late. Dib’s boot, and the puddle of blood it was laying in, were burned into his retinas. He tried to ignore the feeling of thick, warm blood coagulating on his fingers and instead put himself anywhere other than here. His finger twitched. 

And brushed something that felt distinctly like Dib’s hair.

His eyes flew open in a panic, expecting something grisly or horrifying, but instead there was just his hand, palm down in a slick, rapidly cooling puddle. He closed his eyes again and focused hard this time, willing his mind to overcome whatever mechanisms kept his body paralyzed as he slept. His fingers brushed Dib’s hair again and he followed that sensation all the way to its source, shooting up from the bed and sucking in air so loudly that Dib flailed awake beside him.

“Whusswrong??” Dib slurred out before his lips had fully woken up.

Zim froze. As he looked at Dib, all the sensations of the dream washed over him like ice water. The helplessness of watching Dib put the barrel under his chin. The sick sense of knowing what was about to happen. His whole body twitched as his guts back flipped. 

“Shit. I know that look.” Dib jumped up and vaulted out of bed, almost falling flat on his face as his foot caught on one of the blankets.

He sprinted back in short order with the bathroom waste bin, just in time for Zim to be violently ill. They’d been through this enough times with Zim’s morning sickness that he knew the best thing he could do during the whole ordeal was to give Zim some reassuring back rubs while he yaked.

And normally, those would have helped calm Zim on some level, but he was too wrapped up in how awful he felt. Worse than the feeling of his guts being thrown into reverse was the overwhelming guilt and anxiety that plagued Zim’s mind. Dib was _absolutely_ going to ask what was wrong now, and Zim was going to have to tell him. Trying to hide things further was only going to make things worse. Not to mention, he couldn’t keep stressing himself out when the smeets were still inside him.

When he finally handed over the bin with trembling hands and tried to come clean, all that came out of his mouth was a pathetic whimper. Dib gave him a sympathetic look.

“Lie down and I’ll be right back,” he said, hurrying out of the room.

Zim collapsed against the bed, feeling worse than abysmal. All he wanted was for Dib to come back and hold him and reassure him that everything was going to be alright. The last thing he wanted was to make Dib upset enough to leave, but he wasn’t even sure how to get the affection he needed right then without lying, and he didn’t want to do _that_ , either.

He sat up gingerly, antennae listening for Dib’s movements. It sounded like Dib was currently preoccupied with taking the trash out, so Zim slid off the bed and went to dig his tablet out of his dresser. He’d hidden it in his underwear drawer, though he didn’t have a good explanation for why he’d chosen that one over, say, the sock drawer. Dib was no less likely to open either one of them, seeing as they lived together and Dib did all the laundry. Really, he would have been better off just hiding it in his PAK. 

He plucked out the tablet and took it back to his nest, where he propped himself up on some pillows. He was still fighting waves of nausea, and the longer he stared at the foggy grey glass, the sicker he felt. As he heard Dib making his way down the hall, he panicked and quickly stowed the tablet in his PAK. 

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t live the rest of his life alone. But he could _probably_ live the rest of his life with this secret.

Dib came back in with an ice pack wrapped in a tea towel, a bottle of some sort of drink and a second bottle of something to settle his stomach, and the empty trash bin just as Zim’s head hit the pillow.

“I’m just going to throw everything I can at this,” Dib said as he made his way over. He slid into bed next to Zim, who immediately grabbed him around the middle and buried his face in his shirt. Without missing a beat, Dib put the ice pack against his neck and cuddled him close. 

“So I guess we’re back to me taking care of you, huh?” Dib asked as he gently rubbed the base of Zim’s antennae. “Not that I mind. I just still feel like I suck at it.”

“Well, you were _sucking_ last night too, so …” Zim mumbled into Dib’s shirt with a shrug, desperate to try and deflect the attention away from himself. 

Dib went from zero to scarlet in record time. “You’re undoing everything you said last night about me not needing to be ashamed, you know …”

Zim finally looked up. “It’s a joke, Dib. I meant everything I said last night,” he insisted.

Dib shifted away. “If you’re feeling well enough to tease me —”

“Dib!” Zim chirped in alarm, grabbing at his shirt. "Just because I want to insert some levity does _not_ mean I don't need you!"

“Alright, alright. Fine," Dib said with a sigh that was clearly just for show. "But I'm making you take something for your stomach right now."

Zim waited patiently while Dib uncapped the medicine bottle and poured him a tiny cup. He tipped it back quickly since, even though he knew it was supposed to taste like bubblegum, it tasted overwhelmingly of chalk. He hunkered back down into the nest and Dib went back to playing with his antennae as they snuggled. The only sound in the room was Zim’s somewhat desperate purring.

His whole body still felt like it was full of bees, trembling and buzzing while he tried to settle himself down. He focused in on Dib’s heartbeat and breathing, both of which were much more relaxed than his own.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Dib asked gently. There wasn’t even a tinge of accusation in his tone.

“I had a nightmare and then I threw up,” Zim mumbled simply. He was peripherally aware of the fact that Dib was allowing him to breathe all over his shirt without a single complaint. 

“Are the smeets alright?” Dib finally got up the courage to whisper.

“Mm?” Zim didn’t quite follow.

“The last and only time I saw you look this sick was when we found out you were pregnant,” Dib said skeptically. “I don’t think you should still be dealing with morning sickness. As much as I hate to say it … maybe we should contact … _you-know-who_.” Dib uttered the last part like it was a particularly nasty slur.

Zim tried to get a hold of himself. There was no way for him to weasel out now; either he kept his mouth shut and Dib contacted Lard Nar, which would likely end up in Zim being forced to confess, or he told the truth right now.

“It’s not that.”

Zim barely felt his mouth move, but Dib leaned back slightly and looked down at him in confusion.

“Are you sure about—”

“ _Yes_. I’m positive.” Zim squeezed his eyes shut. “I … I have something I need to tell you. Really, _really_ need to tell you. But … I don’t want you to _leave me_ …”

“You _literally_ worried yourself sick?” Dib asked with moderate alarm. “Jesus, Zim! That’s not healthy!!”

“I’m … yes. I guess. I just … if you walk out on me ...” Zim babbled, tripping over his words.

Dib pressed in close, holding him almost painfully tight. “I’m not going to _leave you,_ Zim. Nothing could be bad enough that it would make me put you through that again.”

“But you don’t even know what I have to tell you!” Zim insisted, voice high and reedy.

“Doesn’t matter,” Dib murmured into Zim’s shoulder. “Shit … I really hope that I’m not still enough of an ass that you’re this scared of me.”

Zim wanted to say that all of their progress, all the ways in which they had seemed to improve, it was all a _lie_. Instead, he dropped his tablet on the pillow, pressed a shaking hand to it, and slid it over to a bewildered-looking Dib.

“The highlighted bit,” Zim said hoarsely before burying his face in the pillow. “It’s easier if you read it yourself …”

If Dib decided to walk out, it could be a death sentence. They both knew it. He just wasn’t positive that this knowledge would be enough to keep Dib from doing something stupid or reckless or irreversible. Last night, he had been positive that Dib wouldn’t be upset enough to do something as final as shoot himself in the head. But nightmares have a way of soaking into all the cracks in one’s psyche before turning to ice and forcing all defenses wide open.

“This is … rewriting my brain?” Dib asked from above him.

“I swear, Dib, I didn’t know anything about this until after I got back,” Zim said miserably. “That paper was in the dump I got from Vort’s database on _Project Loveless_. I didn’t even read it until after you left. I promise I had no idea—”

“I’m not blaming you for your biology,” Dib said hurriedly. “It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose. I’m just … _holy shit_.”

Zim looked up to see Dib removing his glasses, before placing his face in his hands. “I’ve been _broken_ … for _so long_ …” Dib mumbled.

“You’re not broken, Dib,” Zim whispered, still too scared and confused to move. 

“ _Yes_ , I _am_.” Dib wiped his face on his sleeve as Zim tentatively sat up. Dib reached out and hugged him close. “It’s not a failing. It’s _okay_ to be broken. It’s just that it makes everything _so much fucking harder_. And I know if I’d had a healthy childhood, I wouldn’t have … _hurt you_ , like I did when we were younger. That part … that’s _definitely_ _not_ okay. And I can’t fix the past but if _this_ is the reason things have been better? I’ll _happily_ go down on you for the rest of my life.”

Zim felt himself dissociating in a way that wasn’t wholly unpleasant. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. Dib was actually okay with … _everything._

“You’re not upset?” Zim asked, as optimistic as he was skeptical. “Because I _really_ should have told you earlier …”

“You were scared. It’s okay,” Dib assured him gently. “You’re positive that this is permanent?”

“As positive as I can be,” Zim said, squeezing him tight. “Lard Nar looked over the scans and there’s been a _huge_ change from the day I put that chip in your head to when we were on Vort.”

Dib suddenly stiffened. “ _What_.”

It took Zim a second to realize where he had misstepped, and then his guts dropped straight through the floor. How had he been so careless as to let _that_ slip??

“How did _Lard Nar_ get scans of my brain from _years ago_?” Dib asked, voice painfully even as he pulled back and held Zim at arm's length.

“It’s not what it sounds like,” Zim said quickly. His brain was racing. He needed a second to think, to figure out how to turn things back around. Everything had been going so well!

“It sounds like you gave your psycho father figure enough personal information to write a damn _research paper on me,_ ” Dib said accusingly, though Zim couldn’t help but think he looked more wounded than anything. “Or is that _not_ what happened??”

“It was right after you left and I was panicking!” Zim insisted desperately. “I confronted him about knowingly separating us while we were bonded—”

“So you _knew_ that he put us through hell _on purpose_ and then you gave that psycho _scans_ _of my fucking head_ anyways??” Dib demanded, backing away and sliding off the bed.

“We were trying to figure out the extent of the effect on you!” Zim insisted as Dib started to pace angrily around the room.

“But giving him _my private information_ wasn’t your call to make!” Dib shouted.

“He’s not as bad as you think!” The inside of Zim’s head felt like a tornado and he was tossing out everything that might help. “He didn’t _want_ to experiment on us! The government on Vort _forced_ him to do it because they’re researching Irken mating pheromones as a way to rehabilitate Irkens. It _wasn’t his choice_!”

“Great, so you handed over this information to not only him, but _the government_ as well,” Dib said acidly. “Nothing bad has _ever_ come of the government collecting data on alien life forms!” He put his head in his hands and rubbed his temples.

“Dib, _please_ …” Zim stared across the room in terror. He hadn’t heard Dib sound this paranoid in a good, long while.

Dib looked up and his expression wavered for a moment. It was hard to look into Zim’s tearful eyes without feeling himself soften a bit.

“Please don’t leave me,” Zim begged, fear rooting him to the bed. “ _Please_ , Dib. I’ll do anything you want … just … _don’t_ …”

Dib took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to remember the formula for dealing with fights that he and Zim had come up with over winter break.

Stick to the facts. Use "I feel" statements. Explain what you intend to do. Set a time limit to cool off. Then talk things through. It all sounded a lot easier than it felt just then.

“I’m not going to leave you,” he stated, trying to sound calm. “I can promise you that _isn’t_ even an option. But I feel like you betrayed my trust by sending scans of _my head_ to the guy who sent me away and _kidnapped_ you. Not to mention feeling manipulated because you spent all this time plotting with Lard Nar and didn’t just explain I was basically going through withdrawals. I need time to cool off and think before I say anything else. So I’m going to leave, and I’ll be back in an hour and a half.”

“Cool off where??” Zim demanded. He had assumed Dib was just going to find an empty lab to blow off some steam in.

“At Gaz’s,” Dib replied simply as he pulled on jeans and socks.

“Then who am _I_ supposed to go talk to?” Zim sputtered, jumping off the bed as Dib straightened up. He abruptly realized his mistake when a wave of nausea hit him as soon as his feet touched the floor. He put a hand to his mouth and swallowed hard.

Dib turned and gave him a severe look. “Zim, I understand that this sucks for you, but _you’re_ the one who sent my brain scans to the guy you _promised me you were done with._ I need to figure out how mad I’m allowed to be and then figure out what to do about it.” He skirted past his mate and headed downstairs. “Maybe you just need to sit with that guilt for a little bit.”

Zim scurried after him, nearly tumbling down the steps as he rushed in front Dib to block his path. “I’ve been sitting with this guilt for a _month_ , Dib! How much longer am I supposed to … to …” His lip trembled and he turned away, eyes welling up with tears. “I still don’t feel well, either. Are you going to leave me here like this?”

Dib’s jaw dropped and it took a moment for him to pick it back up off the floor. “You know, I am _really_ trying to be understanding of your self preservation instincts. But that, right there? _That’s_ manipulative.”

Zim had never heard Dib sound so insulted. He had nothing to say that he could be sure wouldn’t make things worse, so he wrapped his arms around himself and looked away.

“What, do you think it _wasn’t_?” Dib prodded when Zim fell silent.

Zim looked up, defeated. “What do you want me to tell you, Dib? _Everything_ keeps coming out wrong and you’re just going to get angrier at me.”

“All I want is an _apology, Zim_ ,” Dib said, voice strained. “You're usually so good at admitting when you've fucked up. I don't know why this is the hill you want to die on.”

Zim looked at the floor, pained. He couldn't quite say why that was the case, either. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For keeping this from you. For invading your privacy. For trying to … emotionally twist your arm so you don’t l-leave me …” Zim bit his lip hard to keep his emotions contained. He didn’t want Dib to think he was trying to be manipulative again.

He was shocked when Dib suddenly closed the space between them and pulled him into a hug. He had that slightly salty, musky, unwashed human smell that would have normally not helped Zim’s roiling nausea, but right now it smelled comforting. Everything about Dib was safe and familiar.

“I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that you’re still my biggest source of comfort even when you’re also the thing that’s pissing me off,” Dib sighed. 

“Do you regret marrying me?” Zim asked morosely.

“That’s a st—”

“I don’t need you to tell me how _stupid it is_ , Dib. I _just_ need you to answer,” Zim interjected.

“I don’t regret anything I’ve done with you. I know you‘ve been scared I’m going to walk out on you, and I’m sorry I ever acted like that was a possibility,” Dib said, holding him tightly. “I’m upset right now. I need to process whatever is going on in my head, and I need to do it without having to censor myself because I don’t even know what exactly I’m feeling right now. I’m not just leaving to talk shit about you and you know Gaz will slap me upside the head if I’m being stupid.”

Zim nodded slowly. He understood, even if he didn’t like it.

“Here, let's get you set up in bed before I leave,” Dib said gently, taking Zim’s hand. He did feel sort of awful for leaving when Zim wasn’t feeling well. Even if it was mostly psychosomatic.

“I’m okay,” Zim mumbled, even though he felt far from it. “I’m sorry I tried to trip you with guilt. I’ll be fine.”

Dib stroked the back of Zim’s hand with his thumb. “Will you feel better if I at least tuck you back into bed before I go?”

Zim still seemed nervous, but nodded slightly. 

Dib led him upstairs and helped him settle in the nest, propping him up on pillows and tucking him in before digging out the drink he’d brought up earlier and twisting the cap open. Zim’s antennae perked over it quizzically. He suddenly recognized the scent of the meal replacement drink that Dib used to give him when his morning sickness had been nearly constant. Eagerly, he snatched it out of Dib’s hands and started sucking it down. It was more or less a milkshake in a bottle and he wasn’t about to complain.

“Drink that slowly,” Dib warned. “You don’t want to just make yourself sick all over again.”

Dib leaned down for a kiss and Zim tilted his head up, only for Dib to kiss him on the forehead anyway.

“No offense, Zim, but I am _not_ kissing you on the lips right now,” Dib mumbled against his skin. 

“I’m getting mixed messages,” Zim said softly.

“Well, I can smell your breath from here, so …”

“Not about that,” Zim said, still holding Dib tightly. “You _didn’t_ storm out and you’re being _nice_ to me. I don’t get why we can’t just talk this over.”

“Because I need to sort through some things,” Dib said, sounding apologetic about the fact that this was a necessary part of the process. “I’m feeling a lot of emotions I can’t name and I really just need to vent to someone who won’t interject.”

“The _fuck_ are you going to Gaz for, then?” Zim muttered into his shoulder.

“I mean I need a third party who isn’t personally invested,” Dib said wearily. When he sat back up, Zim still looked somewhat apprehensive, so he reached out and stroked Zim’s cheek. “Please don’t worry. It’s not good for you or the smeets for you to get this worked up.”

“But you’re still _upset_ with me,” Zim said, antennae drooping.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” Dib replied gently. “I can be upset about something you did and still care about you.” He took Zim’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m just gonna clear my head, probably get a verbal smackdown from Gaz, and come back full of apologies.”

“Promise you’ll come back?” Zim asked softly, eyes full of barely contained worry.

“Always,” Dib promised. He gave Zim another quick kiss on the top of his head before sliding from the bed and heading out the door. 

Zim flopped back against the pillows, feeling slightly miffed. Sure, Gaz was _Dib’s_ sibling, but Zim had been the one in contact with her all this time! It felt wildly unfair for Dib to monopolize her like that. However … it abruptly dawned on him that there really was no clause that said he couldn’t just contact Gaz himself. 

He listened as Dib proceeded out the front entry before he finally deemed it safe to take out his phone. Maybe he could get Gaz in his corner before Dib even arrived.

* * *

_II._

Dib was standing outside of Gaz’s door, pressing the doorbell, before he realized that he probably should have texted first. He’d been completely lost in thought the entire way over and that important step had skipped his mind completely. 

Oh well … 

Gaz opened the door in her bathrobe, hair sticking out in all directions. The only thing that suggested she hadn’t shuffled directly out of bed to answer the door was the steaming mug of untouched coffee in her hand.

“If Zim hadn’t texted me five minutes ago, I might actually be surprised,” Gaz said blithely as the motioned Dib inside.

“ _Of course_ he texted you,” Dib muttered as he stepped through the doorway, feeling slightly agitated.

His walk across campus had left him holding two completely disparate views, and attempting to reconcile them was making him grouchy. On the one hand, he was upset that Zim had gone behind his back and violated his privacy. On the other hand, it was hard _not_ to feel bad for Zim when he was obviously panicking over the position he’d been put in thanks to Dib. In opposition to _that_ , however, was Dib’s opinion that the whole fiasco was Lard Nar’s fault to begin with, so Zim hardly had any business making deals with the guy responsible. But then again — 

“Want some coffee?” Gaz asked as Dib flopped down at her kitchen table. 

Dib nodded. “Yeah, the adrenaline’s about worn off by now.”

“Adrenaline?” Gaz echoed with a quizzical glance over her shoulder.

“I woke up to Zim flailing himself awake and narrowly avoided him yakking on the sheets,” Dib said wryly.

“Sounds like good practice for having kids.”

“I _really_ hope Zim’s maturity level isn’t genetic,” Dib grumbled as Gaz sat a mug down in front of him and took the seat beside his. “He’s _so_ melodramatic about literally every little thing.”

“Between the two of you, those kids might just be shit outta luck,” she said with a smirk.

Dib sucked down half his coffee in one gulp, then set the mug down heavily in front of him. He traced the text along the side of the mug. It was from a local cafe that Dib also frequented, and it suddenly struck Dib that they had likely crossed paths more than once without him realizing. He still knew so little about his own sister. Meanwhile, she seemed to be complete in the loop about him.

“So,” he began softly, only looking up when he was sure that he could keep his roiling emotions in check. “How long have you known?” He watched Gaz intensely, waiting for any sort of tell. Though, now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure she even _had_ one. 

“Known _what_?” she asked with an eyebrow raise that could have meant just about anything.

But Dib was prepared to call her bluff. “Don’t give me that,” he said irritably. 

“You’re gonna have to be a _little more direct_ about what it is I supposedly know, or else I’m just gonna assume you’re talking about the fact that you’re a massive dweeb,” Gaz said with a dismissive eye roll.

“Gaz, I’m really not in the mood to play games,” Dib said, exasperated. “Just admit that Zim told you about the _pheromones_ , and _Lard Nar_ , and —!!”

Sudden motion out of the corner of his eye made him stop dead. He turned to see Gaz’s girlfriend shuffling in, wearing pastel pajamas and bunny slippers, her sapphire hair half up in a ponytail, the rest of it framing her face. Dib whipped back around and shot Gaz a severe look.

“You didn’t tell me Lyn was here!” he hissed, ducking down slightly. 

“She was asleep when I got up. Probably would have _stayed asleep_ too, if someone hadn’t been _yelling_ ,” Gaz said pointedly out of the side of her mouth. 

“What’s with the morning forum?” Lyn said with a yawn as she joined them at the table.

Dib stood up abruptly, words bypassing his brain and tumbling from his mouth. “Uh, ya know what? I came over here because Zim and I had a fight, but now that I think about it, I should _really_ just go and apologize. Sorry to barge in. This was a mistake.”

“Aw, what was the fight about?” Lyn asked before Dib could walk off.

“Oh. Er. It was … we, Uh …” Why was English suddenly so hard?? Why couldn't he spit out even one stupid half-truth?

“Is it because Zim’s an alien?”

Dib gripped the edge of the table. Suddenly, almost his senses felt numb and his ears were ringing. He slowly sunk back down into his seat before he could pass out.

It used to be everything he wanted to hear. And now that it was happening, all he wanted to do was run.

“You don’t really … you don’t actually _believe_ that, do you??” he asked, throat dry. All those years of _begging_ people to believe him, and now he desperately hoped Lyn would laugh in his face.

Instead, she gave him a sympathetic look. “Dib … I don’t wanna alarm you but …” She leaned forward and whispered, “he’s _kind of green_.”

She sat back in her seat, stealing Gaz coffee and kicking her feet up on Gaz’s lap. She seemed oblivious to the irate look Gaz was attempting to burn her with, instead watching Dib’s minor crisis over the top of her mug.

Dib opened his mouth but no sound came out. It was just as well, since he couldn’t have lied even if he wanted to. Existential crisis aside, he was always a horrible liar. 

“I guess it could be a skin condition,” Lyn prattled on, just to fill the yawning void of silence, “but he doesn’t have ears or a nose, and he’s only got three fingers—”

“You’re starting to sound a little _prejudiced_ ,” Dib shot back, having abruptly found his voice once more. He crossed his arms defensively. Then uncrossed them so he could sip his coffee defensively and not have to look at her. 

Lyn held her hands up, the pastel kittens on her sleeves attesting to her innocence. “Look, I would have just shrugged _all_ that off if Gaz hadn’t straight-up _said it herself_.”

Dib choked on his coffee. “ _What_??” he managed to spit out. He turned to Gaz, radiating betrayal. “ _Why would you do that??_ ”

“We were high, and I figured that even if they remembered, they’d never end up _meeting you_!” Gaz said, aggravated. She didn’t appear at all like she appreciated being thrust into this position. 

“Who’s _‘they’_??” Dib demanded, gripping the sides of his chair as his head spun. He could feel a proper panic attack building in his chest.

“Chill out. I’ll admit that I fucked up, okay?” Gaz said slowly, trying to keep her tone calm. “But it’s just the rest of the friend group. They aren’t gonna tell anyone.”

Her tone only seemed to set Dib off further.

“Oh ... my ... _god_ , _Gaz_! What the hell??” Dib yelled, head in his hands. “The more people are in on something, the _harder_ it gets to keep it under wraps!!” He shot to his feet, slapping his palms on the table and leaning in close enough that Gaz shied backwards slightly. “How do you think all those documents about Area 51 got leaked, _huh_?? Too many people _knew_ , Gaz! _Too many people knew!!_ ”

Gaz had almost forgotten how crazed Dib could look when he shifted into conspiracy mode. She shot Lyn an irritated look and gave a slight nod in Dib’s direction. “Is this how you pictured things going?” she asked sardonically.

“I thought we’d all just have a laugh about it,” Lyn said quietly, hunching her shoulders and nervously twirling a loose lock of hair.

“I haven’t seen Dib laugh at his own expense in almost _two decades_ , Lyn!” Gaz said exasperated. “I highly doubt he’s gonna start _now_!”

“No, I’m not, because it isn’t funny!” Dib yelled. He didn’t appreciate them talking like he wasn’t even there. 

“It’s not, but you need to sit your ass down and chill,” Gaz said, pointing to his chair. It never paid to indulge her brother’s paranoia. 

“ _Chill_?? Zim’s gonna end up on an _autopsy table in the middle of the Nevada desert_!” Dib shouted. "There's no time for _chill_!"

Before he could get another word out — and he had _plenty_ of words he was dying to get out just about now — a blur of white shot across the room and clamped down on his hand. Dib shrieked and looked down to see Lionel’s big brown eyes staring up at him soulfully, in stark contrast to the glimmering chompers currently clamped down on his delicate, willowy fingers. 

“You’re getting too riled up. He wants you to calm down,” Gaz explained in a tone that was highly unlikely to convince her panicked brother to actually relax. 

“Could he tell me that _without_ swallowing my hand??” Dib squeaked out. 

“Just sit down and breathe for a moment. Jeez.”

Dib looked from Lionel to Gaz, then deflated a bit, sinking into his chair once again, where he took some deep, calming breaths. After half a dozen, Lionel released Dib’s hand and put his head in his lap.

“See?” Gaz said as Dib opened his eyes. “His methods are crazy but they work.”

Dib ran his fingers through Lionel’s fur as the massive dog’s fluffy tail thumped the floor.

“I told everyone back when we still weren’t talking,” Gaz explained. “But it still wasn’t my place and I’m sorry.”

Dib gave a noncommittal grunt, refusing to look up from Lionel. 

“But you _really_ don’t need to worry. Who are they gonna tell?” Gaz asked. “You already know nobody will listen. And I can tell you for sure that dad isn’t getting any _less_ closed-minded.”

“Zim’s like an organic ‘Somebody Else’s Problem’ generator,” Lyn added. “He looks like trouble and most people want nothing to do with that. It’s only when you bother to get close that something starts to seem off.”

Dib put his head in his hands. “Alright. So, _all_ of our friends know Zim is an alien. And _you_ —” he popped his head up to glare at Gaz, “— knew about Zim and the pheromones and … _FUCKING_ Lard Nar—!!!”

Lionel licked his hand and whined, prompting Dib to quickly get back to petting his head again. He figured it was either that or his hand became lunch. 

“Okay, I’ll admit that I’ve known for a few weeks about your weird pair bonding thing,” Gaz said with a sigh, kicking back in her chair, “but that _also_ means I can definitively say that if you’re worried that Zim’s mind-controlling you into being a good partner, don’t be.”

Dib looked puzzled. “What? _That’s_ not it at all.”

“It’s … not?” Gaz asked, sitting up a bit.

Dib ran his fingers through his hair. “ _No_ ,” he said, exasperated. “I’ve always loved him and I’ve always wanted it to be like this. And I think I could have gotten here on my own, with a lot of time and patience and dedication from both myself _and_ Zim. But I’ve been given this biological shortcut that makes everything easier and it’s kind of a relief.”

“So what, exactly, was your problem?” Gaz asked with an odd look. 

“It was the fact that Zim kept things from me, talked with Lard Nar behind my back, and sent the bastard scans of my _head_ that I have a problem with,” Dib said irritably. 

“I’m surprised that didn’t hit a data cap, what with your head being so big,” Gaz muttered as Dib looked daggers at her.

“ _Apparently_ everyone is talking behind my back, so I don’t know why I expect _any_ loyalty _at all_ ,” Dib said acidly.

“Jesus fuck, Dib,” Gaz sighed. “All our friends have said is that they’re impressed you were able to conquer the alien menace with _love_ , of all things, and that they want to spoil your weird little roach babies rotten.”

Dib moodily chewed the inside of his cheek to keep himself from talking out of turn.

“It’s true,” Lyn said earnestly. “I know I’m not proper family and we haven’t known each other for long, but I’d kill to be their aunty.”

That made Dib soften up slightly. The idea of the smeets having a proper — if a touch strange — family was a tantalizing one.

“As for what Zim told me …” Gaz threw up her hands. “I didn’t _ask him to_. But he was worried he was violating your free will and he wanted my opinion.”

"I just can't get over the fact that you knew and didn't tell me," Dib said, sounding more hurt than anything.

“Yeah, I knew, and I initially agreed that Zim shouldn’t ever tell you. Because you were in a vulnerable position and I didn’t want your freak-out to escalate.” She rolled her head to her shoulder to give Dib a plaintive look. “But then you still seemed worked up about when you first came back from Vort, and you got married, and at that point, I told Zim that he had to come clean with you because I didn’t want that lie to fester and destroy your relationship.” 

Dib took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. “Alright. I can make my pece with that,” he said quietly. “There’s still the main issue of Zim giving his psycho mentor shit that _definitely_ violates the hell outta HIPAA, though.”

“What do you care if some crusty old space goat has your medical records?” Gaz asked flippantly. 

Dib paused, mouth half open. He tried to dig down past the hurt he felt over the whole thing, but all he found were feelings that he didn’t quite have the language to describe.

“I … don’t know. I just don’t like it,” he said lamely.

“Oookay, and that’s valid, but it’s upsetting you more than it really should and I’m trying to understand _why_ ,” Gaz said diplomatically. 

Dib glared. “You think I’m being dramatic.” He was used to not being believed, but this rampant dismissal of him personal feeling hit him harder than normal. 

“Dib … I …” Gaz gestured in frustration before putting a hand to her forehead. “ _Yeah_ , I _kinda do think_ you’re blowing this out of proportion. It’s not like when you were worried the FBI was gonna come use Zim to test roach spray. All Lard Nar seems to care about is whether or not you’re pair bonded to Zim.”

“But the government on Vort—!”

“Could probably zap you right out of the shower, if they wanted to,” Gaz said, cutting him off. “Why are you _really_ upset?”

Dib was about to argue, until it hit him that his sister might _actually_ be right. He was more scared of the Vortian government taking Zim from him than he was about being kidnapped by them, himself. But when it came to Lard Nar, personally, something hit a little too close to home.

“Shit, it’s because Lard Nar reminds me of dad,” Dib groaned.

Lyn, who had previously been texting and only sporadically looking up to spectate, suddenly looked up, concerned. “How the fuck did you land at _that_ conclusion?”

“I was dad’s favorite research subject as a kid,” Dib grudgingly admitted.

Lyn looked at him as if waiting for him to have a laugh at her expense. When he didn’t waver, she turned to Gaz.

“He’s making that sound _a lot_ worse than it actually is,” Gaz said hurriedly.

“ _Really_?” Dib snapped. “Have either of you ever been dragged along to a conference where the keynote presentation featured _your_ _internal organs up on the projector_?? Because _I have_. And it _fucking sucked_.”

Lyn turned back to Gaz, expression beyond horrified. 

“Alright, fine!” Gaz exclaimed, looking cowed for the first time practically ever. “It’s hard to re-contextualize all my memories of him, okay? I have to constantly remind myself that the things that happened to us as kids _weren’t okay_. That the way you were treated wasn’t your fault. And you’re _right_ ; that conference was _mortifying_ and _totally unacceptable_.”

Dib blinked in surprise. “I don’t think I’ve _ever_ heard you say the words ‘you’re right’ in my direction without heavy sarcasm.”

“Keep that up and you might never hear it again,” she grumbled, leaning heavily on the table as Lyn gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’re also right to be wary of Lard Nar for making you and Zim research subjects. What he did was so uncalled for, it’s not even funny.”

“So I should tell Zim to quit talking with him,” Dib said, though it was only slightly more statement than question. 

Gaz and Lyn exchanged a glance that Dib couldn’t interpret.

“What?” he asked suspiciously. 

“From what Gaz told me … Zim might be suffering from a little bit of Stockholm Syndrome,” Lyn said slowly, gauging Dib’s reaction.

"More like a lot of Stockholm Syndrome," Gaz interjected.

“Super,” Dib said dryly. “So how does one un-Stockholm somebody?”

“With _heaps_ of therapy,” Lyn replied.

“Yeah, that’s _not_ gonna happen,” Dib grumbled, looking moodily out the window. “Don’t think I need to tell you why.”

That was, perhaps, the biggest barrier in their relationship; the fact that there wasn’t a therapist on the planet who could help them deal with everything that had cropped up due to Zim’s off-world origins. 

“Given all that, I don’t think you should ban him from talking to Lard Nar,” Gaz said tentatively. 

Dib gave her an exasperated look. "After all the ways you've told me he's bad for Zim??"

“Hear me out,” Gaz said, holding up a hand. “If he didn’t have exact coordinates to your damn house, I’d say _yeah_ , tell Zim to knock it off and cut all contact. But the fact of the matter is that he, or whoever is above him, could just waltz in and kidnap you two either way. So you don’t gain anything by cutting him off, and it could possibly lead to worse outcomes with Zim. Not to mention …” She gave a frustrated sigh and ran her fingers through her hair, idly untangling some snarls. “As far as I can tell, Zim _really_ wants a dad.”

“As he loves to remind me, Irkens don’t _have_ parents,” Dib retorted.

“Yeah, I’m _sure_ that got genetically modified _right out of them_ , along with the ability to _reproduce_ ,” Gaz said dryly.

Dib rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. Point taken.”

“I don’t think Zim will have an easy time detaching from him,” Gaz continued. “The best option is to let Zim stay in contact, out in the open, where you can keep an eye on things and hope the guy cares as much about Zim as it sounds like he does. Even if I don’t understand what Zim sees in the guy.”

“Larr Nar has this whole ‘nutty professor’ vibe,” Dib said reticently. “It’s rather disarming.”

He wished he could go back to last night, when he had no idea what Zim was doing behind his back and before he had to cope with the newfound knowledge that his entire friend group knew Zim was an alien. He wasn’t sure what to do with any of it, especially given that he was still emotionally yo-yoing between feeling upset with Zim, then guilty for having put him in a position where he felt he couldn’t be upfront about things.

“You still look miserable,” Gaz said.

“I want to forgive Zim, but I still keep feeling pissed about what he did and I can’t stop,” Dib mumbled self-consciously.

“And I still get irritated with you for making me deconstruct my relationship with Dad,” Gaz replied. “Sometimes forgiveness is something you just have to keep choosing until it sticks.”

“That’s … oddly sage, for you,” he said, perplexed.

“You’re just not used to post-therapy Gaz yet,” she replied with a slight smirk. “Tell Zim you forgive him so he stops worrying himself to death and then bring him back over here. We’ll do breakfast and then whatever else normal college students do on a Saturday.”

As much as Dib hated to admit it, he really needed a little normalcy about now. He pulled out his phone, hoping that Zim was as eager to reconcile as he was.

* * *

_III._

Compared to the morning they’d had, Zim took the news that his cover was slightly blown an awful lot better than Dib had anticipated. Though he had to admit that the reaction was likely down to the way Gaz had put a positive spin on it. Who knew Zim actually wanted a community and wanted his own little found family? He seemed extremely relieved to hear that both Gaz and Lyn wanted to be involved with the smeets, and especially happy when they offered to babysit.

As nice as it had been to spend the day out with the two of them, Dib was happy to finally be back home and alone with Zim. As they cuddled up in bed, he couldn’t ignore how good it felt to be back in Zim’s arms again, kissing him gently. The frequency and severity of their arguments were both on downward trends, but being upset with Zim never got any easier. The relief that came after the air was cleared was unlike anything Dib had ever experienced; it was as if he were collapsing back into Zim’s intoxicating pull. 

He pressed his tongue into Zim’s mouth and managed to get his hand midway down Zim’s pants before he realized that Zim had suddenly gone quiet and still, no longer reciprocating. Dib rolled backwards slightly and brushed an unruly lock of hair from his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I …” Zim shrunk back slightly, looking at the bed. “I don’t want to,” he finally whispered.

Dib cocked his head slightly. “Don’t want to …?” His face abruptly fell as he finally processed what should have been blatantly obvious. “Holy shit. I’m so sorry,” he sputtered, suddenly looking Zim over. “Are you okay?? Did I do something? Are you feeling alright??”

Zim put a finger over his lips. “Yes. No. And I think so. In that order. You don’t need to panic over it.”

“Do you want a hug? Or cuddles? I can just leave you alone, if that’s what you need,” Dib offered frantically. “Are you sure I didn’t do something??”

“My sex drive is just on the fritz, Dib. It’s fine.” Zim hunched his shoulders slightly. “I mean … I hope it’s fine,” he mumbled.

“We can call Lard Nar right now if you—”

“What?” Zim asked, brows knitted in confusion.

“If you’re worried it’s not fine?” Dib offered, equally bewildered.

“Huh? Oh!” he chirped, shaking his head emphatically as the disconnect finally became apparent. “Not about me. I meant your reaction to not getting sex.”

Dib kissed his forehead, not a single beat missed. “That’s my reaction,” he replied simply.

“But you’ve been really enjoying it the last few months …” Zim said, trailing off.

“And I managed for a long while without it.” He ran Zim’s antenna through his fingers. “ _Mira_ , Zim. I’m not gonna be mad you don’t want to fuck. Just tell me what I can do for you. I want to make you happy.”

 _Happy_ … Zim had some thoughts about that, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to share them out loud.

Dib snuggled against him, his head resting gently against his chest.

“Anything you want. Even if it’s weird. As long as there’s no risk of bodily harm, I’ll do it,” Dib said, head nestled in Zim’s cleavage.

All Zim could think about was Dib the night prior, latched onto his teat and blissfully suckling away. Zim hadn’t thought he would like it as much as he did. It was the softest their interactions had ever been and it was over much too soon.

“We could … do that thing we did last night,” Zim offered, voice scarcely above a whisper, eyes nervous as they gazed into Dib’s own. “Only if you want to.”

Dib couldn’t think of much else he wanted more, but he couldn’t seem to find the words to convey that to his mate.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” Zim mumbled, misreading Dib’s wide-eyed look of utter _want_ for one of trepidation. “There’s probably weird chemicals in that, too. I’d hate for you to get addicted to—”

“Too late,” Dib said quietly. “If that’s all you're worried about, the damage is done. So just take your shirt off already, will you?”

Zim sat up and pulled his shirt over his head, already feeling Dib settle in across his lap. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so eager,” Zim said with a bewildered smile.

Dib blushed and ducked his head bashfully. “I just wanna help you relax,” he mumbled. He rested his head against Zim’s belly, running his fingers over the stretched skin. “If we could time travel back to that first year that we knew each other, would you have believed we’d ever get to this point?” Dib asked, gazing up into Zim’s eyes. “I mean being mates and married and having kids,” he added quickly. “Not, uh, this bit specifically.”

“First of all, time travel doesn’t exist,” Zim said, booping Dib on the nose. “Not for organic life, anyway. But if it did …” Zim’s expression flickered for a second as the pain seeped in. “I was so convinced that I was going to take over your planet and either annihilate you or make you my slave. I don’t know what past-me would do if current-me showed up three times as heavy, pregnant, and fawning over you. I’d probably think it was a trick.”

“I would too,” Dib admitted. “I’d probably be at least a little proud of future-me for bedding an alien. But having kids? I wouldn’t be able to believe it.”

Dib ran his fingers between Zim’s breasts, fingertips making curlicues on their way downwards.

“Dib … what if I’m stuck like this?”

Dib looked up, confused at the sudden change of topic. “Like what?”

“Fat and with tits,” Zim mumbled self-consciously. He was quiet for a moment before adding, “And no cock.”

“I thought the research we found said that things tended to revert?” Dib said quizzically. 

“But you know my genetic _everything_ is a mess and it’s just as likely that I get stuck like this,” Zim said miserably.

“Are you upset by it, or are you just worried I’ll be upset?” Dib asked, looking skeptical. “Because my answer changes depending on which one it is.”

“You fell in love with a much less mom-shaped Zim …”

“And I’ve continued to fall for you even more since then,” Dib replied simply, petting Zim’s antenna reassuringly.

“You won’t feel like you’re missing out on my dick?” Zim asked quietly.

Dib brought Zim’s free hand to his mouth and kissed it. “As much as I’ve been looking forward to getting railed by you from behind, I’m happy with the state of our sex life. And I’m kind of hoping you stay curvy.”

“And my tits?” Zim asked nervously.

“Zim, if I talk about your tits, I’m gonna start drooling. And nobody wants that.”

Zim rolled his eyes but finally lifted his breast to Dib’s mouth. Dib took it gently, eyes closing as his lips closed around it. He nuzzled against Zim’s chest, suckling much more slowly than the previous night.

“Smart boy — make it last a little longer this time,” Zim murmured, stroking his hair. 

He watched as Dib shifted closer before completely relaxing as their curves melted together. Dib’s feet kneaded slowly against the mattress, his face peaceful, breathing soft and even. The love Zim felt while taking all this in was wholly overpowering. It was a love that begged him to hold his Dib closer, whisper soft nothings to him, kiss his forehead while his lips were still preoccupied with suckling. He was vaguely aware the he was purring, his entire body vibrating with happiness.

“I love you, Dib,” he whispered, stroking his cheek.

“Ah luff yoo too,” Dib mumbled, milk leaking from between his lips and dribbling down his cheek.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Zim admonished as he reached for his shirt and used it to clean Dib up. “You’re making a mess and you’re right — nobody wants you drooling all over.

Dib looked up through half-lidded eyes and smiled. 

“You’re too cute, though,” Zim sighed melodramatically. “I guess I can’t be upset with you.”

Although their burgeoning sexual relationship had been enjoyable, it was reassuring to dig down deep into the romantic feelings they both still held for each other. Though this feeling seemed to exceed the bounds of even that. It was a feeling that made Zim certain he would die for Dib, if necessary. It was pure; almost maternal, even.

Dib was so out of it that Zim once again had to gently redirect him to the other teat when the first one inevitably went dry. He repositioned Dib against his chest and closed his eyes, listening to Dib’s contented sighs and hums of pleasure, and playing with his hair.

Zim caught himself drifting, lulled by the rhythmic tugging at his breast and the warmth of Dib’s body against his own. It was getting harder and harder to stay conscious, and the next thing he knew, he had startled awake to an ache in his chest and a sudden whine from Dib.

He looked down blearily and thumbed Dib’s mouth away from his skin. “When nothing’s coming out, sucking harder isn’t going to solve anything, silly.”

“I didn’t want it to all be gone so fast,” Dib mumbled as Zim rolled them both onto their sides, then snuggled in. 

“Fast? Both of us dozed off in the time it took you to finish,” Zim replied with a smirk. He pressed in close, taking in the sweet, milky scent rolling off his human. “I’ll never get used to the fact that doing that makes you smell like me. I love it.” He ran his fingers up Dib’s neck and into his hair, gently combing through it.

“Is this gonna be a thing?” Dib asked, his voice a soft whisper.

“What’cha mean?” Zim asked through a sudden yawn.

“Will you let me do this every night?

Zim opened his eyes. Dib looked genuine, if a bit sheepish.

“It’s going to get complicated once the smeets hatch,” Zim warned him. “What you’re doing is recreational, so they’d have to be provided for first. And then there’s the fact that we can’t just be doing this in front of them. It might not be sexual, but it _is_ a bit deviant and inarguably inappropriate.”

“I mean until the smeets are hatched,” Dib insisted.

Zim brushed Dib’s bangs from his face. His eyes were pleading, despite a blush that ran from his cheeks to his neck. “What are you getting out of this?” Zim asked. When Dib started to turn away, Zim caught his chin and directed him back. “I’m not judging. I’m just asking.”

Dib looked conflicted. “It’s just nice being close to you,” he mumbled self-consciously, looking anywhere but Zim’s eyes. 

“We’ve got cuddling and sex, though. Why do you need this?” Zim asked gently. 

Dib whined in frustration, but finally met Zim’s intense gaze. “Because it feels _good_ to be _taken care of_ , okay?” he admitted with a tinge of guilt. “I like being held. I like the way it makes me feel when all of your attention is on me and you’re playing with my hair and just … ya know?” Dib trailed off helplessly. “Am I making sense? Because I know it’s not the kind of relationship we’ve had in the past or even lately, what with you being pregnant and needing help from me more often. Maybe it isn’t even what I should _want_ but—”

“Dib, it’s okay,” Zim murmured. “It feels good to me, too. I want to keep doing it as long as we can. I just need you to know there might be limits on how long it’s viable. I don’t want you to think I don’t care about you if this has to stop.”

“It’ll suck, but I’ll manage,” Dib promised.

“Good, because I want to — _ack!_ ” Zim abruptly curled in on himself with a pained squeak. A pinching sensation in his belly made him suddenly struggle for breath.

“Are you okay??” Dib asked frantically, sitting up and looking Zim over.

“Something just shifted funny. I’ll be fine,” Zim wheezed as he uncurled.

“Was it from me laying on you??” Dib asked, panicking.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Zim assured him, shifting slightly. “That really took a lot out of me though. I think I just need to sleep.”

Dib sat up against the pillows and motioned him up. Zim eagerly pressed close to his human, purring as Dib held him gently, stroking his antennae.

“Wake me up if anything hurts again, okay?” Dib asked.

Zim just nodded, hoping Dib would just put his lack of a verbal response down to how sleepy he was.

And he desperately hoped that Dib would fade off quickly. The initial cramp had proceeded a feeling of something descending very clearly downwards in a way that he had never experienced prior to that moment. As much as he loved Dib, he was pretty sure he was going to have to draw the line at letting him be involved in the egg-laying process in any way, shape or form.

* * *

III.

“Dib‽‽‽”

The frantic shout roused Dib from what he was moderately sure had been a heavy slumber. He vaguely recalled Zim jostling him awake on his way out of bed, but he wasn’t sure exactly how long ago that had been. He rolled over and confirmed that he was alone in bed and the spot where Zim had been sleeping was cold. An agonized cry down the hall served to wake him up the rest of the way.

“Zim?” he called, sitting up. “What’s going on??”

“ _Help…_ ” The plea was soft and desperate.

 _That_ certainly got his heart beating. He leapt out of bed and down the hall, screeching to a halt and backtracking when he heard a small “in here…” from the bathroom. He stood in the doorway, trying to figure out what on earth was looking at. The glow of the nightlight was making things seem doubly eerie and divorced from reality. 

Zim was trembling on the floor, sitting in a puddle of pink goo, with what appeared to be a large, spotted egg on the floor between his legs.

“That just came out of me, Dib!!” he shrieked, hysterical. “I didn’t think this was supposed to hurt but it was horrible and there’s three more still and I can’t do this!!” He burst into inconsolable tears.

As was usual for Dib when confronted with extreme emotions, he froze on the spot. Zim was crying. Their bathroom floor was splattered in alien fluids. There was an egg containing … God only knew _what_ kind of Irken-Human monstrosity laying only a couple feet from him. Unable to process the scene in front of him, his brain switched into guilt mode. Why hadn’t he just bought condoms? That would have saved them so much trouble. How much was a box of condoms, even? Like $10? That was the cost of lunch and a soda. For the cost of a Chipotle meal, they could have avoided … whatever fresh hell all _this_ was. 

“Fuck it — I’m not pushing out any more of them! _I’m gonna cut them out of me_ ,” Zim growled through his tears, his tone abruptly dragging Dib back to the present. 

“What??” Dib squawked, panicked.

Zim had pulled up his shirt and the razor sharp edge of a PAK leg was poised over his distended belly.

“Oh my god, no!!” Dib yelled, putting his hand between Zim and the blade and nearly losing his footing on the slick floor in the process. “You are _not_ cutting yourself open on the bathroom floor. It’s not even sterile!! I’m not letting you die of sepsis like an 1800s housewife!”

He finally sprung into action, tossing a towel on the floor and setting the lone egg on top of it. He lifted a still-sobbing Zim out of the puddle of goo and dried him off as best he could. Zim slumped against him, round and miserable and shaking with quiet tears. 

“The whole back of your shirt is soaked,” Dib said gently, hoping his voice didn’t betray how terrified he was by the whole spectacle. No amount of reading had prepared him for this and he was sure that if he thought too hard about any aspect of it, he was either going to puke or pass out. Possibly both at the same time. He hoped that switching into caretaker mode would circumvent that. “Let’s get that off you … arms up.” 

Zim did as he was told and Dib tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it in the sink.

“Here, take mine. You’re shivering and this one is already warm.” He helped Zim pull it on, guiding his arms through the sleeves. His poor mate hadn’t even stopped crying for a second during the whole process.

He sat down on the bath mat — perhaps the only goo-free island in a sea of blinding, day-glo pink — and put a towel in his lap. “I don’t know what I can do besides provide some physical comfort,” he said nervously, motioning Zim over. 

Zim slowly sank into his lap, thick thighs straddling him, and continued sobbing into his shoulder. All Dib could do was hold him close. 

“Why didn’t you tell me when you got up?” Dib asked as he gently rubbed Zim’s lower back.

“I wasn’t positive it was time,” Zim hiccuped. “What if I’d woken you up and I just had to piss? Though that would have been less gross than all this …”

“It’s not gross,” Dib reassured him. It wasn’t _really_ a lie. At the very least, the grossness level wasn’t what was causing his stomach to roll uncomfortably. Rather, it was the little flashes of nightmares that kept popping up in his brain. He wished the eggs would stay put until he could get his demons on a tighter leash. 

“Don’t lie to me, Dib! This whole process is disgusting and embarrassing and I thought it was gonna be quick!” Zim bawled. “It took me half an hour just to get that one out. And there’s three more still and … I don’t think I can do this!!”

Dib kissed his cheek. “Shhh … it’s okay …”

“It is _not_ okay!!” Zim shouted, beginning to tumble headlong into full blown hysteria. “I’m … leaking _stuff_ all over and everything hurts and my PAK isn’t taking care of things the way it should and … I don’t want to do this anymore!”

Dib didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t tell Zim that it would be over soon, or that it would all be worth it, or that nothing bad would happen. Those weren’t promises he was able to make. All he could say was, “I’m going to be here for you every step of the way.”

He felt Zim’s entire body tense and his breathing grow fast and shallow. Zim let off a soft whine that ended in a pitiful whimper. 

“Dib… it hurts … it really, really hurts ...” he mewled plaintively.

“I know … I’m so sorry you have to go through this,” Dib whispered next to Zim’s antenna. “I’ve got you and it’s going to be okay. I’m gonna do everything I can to help you get through this.”

Zim whimpered and shook, wrapping his arms a little tighter around Dib’s neck. “I didn’t know it was gonna be like this … if I’d known they were going to be this difficult to get out of me, I never would have gone through with this!” He suddenly trembled and let out a mournful wail. “Oh no … fuck, I’m sorry …”

Dib was about to ask for what, but then Zim abruptly pulled himself into a squatting position over his lap, breathing heavily. Dib felt panic rising in his chest as he simultaneously realized that Zim was about to push out another egg _and_ that he was unable to move elsewhere before it happened.

“I’m sorry … I’m so sorry …” Zim whispered as Dib held his hips to steady him.

Dib felt his mouth go dry but didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t be sorry. At least now I can actually do something …” He was cut off by a pained grunt. He gently massaged Zim’s hips in his hands, feeling utterly useless. And, much to his absolute horror, a _little_ turned on. He frantically tried to lock in on what, exactly, could be reading as sexual about anything that was going on in front of him.

“I think it’s stuck like the last one,” Zim whined, leaning all of his weight down on Dib’s shoulders. He reached down and groped blindly until he found Dib’s hand. “Can you help?” he asked, voice high and shaking. “Reach down and see if you can pull this damn thing out? Please??”

Dib let his hand be guided between Zim’s legs until his fingers touched the surface of a decidedly goo-covered egg, still tightly wedged up inside Zim. He was uncomfortably aware of how hard the entire situation was making him and hoped Zim wouldn’t notice. He had no idea how he was going to explain that the mere thought of sliding his fingers up inside Zim to assist with the egg-laying was the hottest scenario he’d imagined in quite a while. He sort of wished he could just go back to feeling mildly ill over the whole thing.

As if sensing both his growing panic and overwhelming arousal, Zim’s antennae suddenly danced across his bare skin, narrowly avoiding poking him in the eye.

“Exactly _what part of this_ is a turn on for you?” Zim asked accusingly. “Don't even try and tell me that it _isn’t_. I can smell it rolling off of you.”

“ I …” Dib wasn’t sure where to start. 

Zim whined as another cramp hit him. “I didn’t peg you as _this kind_ of sadist, Dib …” he said through gritted teeth. 

“It’s not that!!” Dib insisted.

Zim’s nails bit into Dib’s shoulders as he desperately tried to push the next egg out.

“Okay then _what??_ ”

“It’s the egg-laying!” Dib said quickly, before he could psych himself out. Zim stopped everything for a moment and the sound of his heavy breaths was all that filled the silence. Dib couldn’t help but think that the look of incredulity Zim was giving him was probably fatal from this close. At least, he was starting to _hope_ it was. “S-sorry,” he stuttered. “I mean … on the bright side, at least I’m not grossed out, right?”

His poor attempt at humor was cut short by another pained wail from Zim.

“Okay, whatever! I don’t care if you beat yourself off while you do it. Just help me get this fucking thing _out_ ,” Zim begged.

“Okay, okay … hold still …”

Dib put one hand under Zim’s thigh to support him, then reached blindly between his legs. He didn't have to go very far, however, as the egg was stuck right at the opening. Dib carefully worked his fingers between the egg and Zim, trying to get a good angle and working purely by tactile feedback. He kissed Zim’s neck while he worked, hoping he could provide at least a small distraction. He could feel himself finally coming around the curve of the egg when a sudden sharp “ah!” from Zim made him freeze.

“Did I hurt you?” Dib asked, panicked. He sat back slightly in an attempt to look Zim in the eyes but Zim ducked his head and looked away.

“ … No,” Zim said quietly, sounding a little guilty.

It took Dib an extra moment for the realization to finally dawn on him. He wrapped Zim in a one-armed hug with his free hand. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I shouldn’t be enjoying this …” Zim warbled. 

“I’d argue that you shouldn’t be miserable,” Dib said reassuringly. He purposefully stroked his fingers down Zim’s walls, making Zim chirp softly. “You’re allowed to enjoy this.”

Zim nuzzled against his neck, letting Dib continue pleasuring him. He could feel himself starting to relax despite the egg still stuck halfway out of him, and even that didn’t hurt quite as much, now that his vaginal muscles were no longer clamped down on it like a vise. If Dib insisted on ‘helping’ like this, Zim had a feeling he was going to end up with a new kink just by pure association.

Dib resumed carefully working his way up and finally slid his fingers deep enough to gently turn the egg to a better angle. It fell out of Zim with a sickening _schlorp_ and dropped into Dib’s lap. He sat there, momentarily stunned. He poked at the egg gently, bewildered and awestruck and surprised at how heavy the thing in his lap felt. 

“Move that one out of the way,” Zim panted. “I think I can finally get … these other two … _out_ ,” he grunted.

Dib quickly set the egg aside and let Zim brace against him, straining. He did his best to hold Zim’s trembling body upright.

“It’s fucked up, but it feels so good when they finally slide out,” Zim murmured close to his ear

“It’s not fucked up,” Dib said gently, leaning his head against Zim’s. “Endorphins make things hurt less.” He reached between Zim’s legs and rubbed the sensitive spot where he knew Zim’s cock was hiding.

Zim let out a warbling chirp and leaned in, letting Dib support all of his weight. He hoped his body would eventually let his tentacle see the light of day again. Zim was desperate to get to slide up inside him, hold him down, tell him he wasn’t allowed to come until Zim did, first …

“You sound like you might actually get off,” Dib said with a light kiss on the cheek. He slid his hand back to Zim’s thigh, steadying him. 

“You did say I was allowed to enjoy this …” Zim whispered, just before another cramp made him wince. A pathetic whimper escaped his lips. “Okay. Suddenly not enjoying it anymore.”

“Can I help?” Dib asked, worried.

Zim shook his head. “I can feel it actually moving, this time. The last pair were definitely turned funny,” he wheezed. “But this one …”

He didn’t have to finish his sentence; he gave a soft moan and the third egg landed with a muffled _thud_ against Dib’s legs. Dib barely had time to reach down and pick it up before Zim slumped heavily into his lap, looking worn out. He rested his head against Dib’s chest, then reached out to take the egg from him.

“Whoever you are, I can tell you’re not going to be trouble,” Zim murmured as he ran his fingers over the egg’s bumpy surface. A bizarre desire to gather up all the eggs and nestle them against his body tugged at him, as strange and gentle as the moon tugging at the tides. As good as it felt to have Dib holding him, he briefly considered how much better it might feel to simply curl up with his eggs in their nest.

“Just one more,” Dib assured him, abruptly pulling him out of his thoughts. “You’re doing great.”

“I’m so _tired_ …” Zim whined, finally placing the egg with its siblings. “That position is both the best for getting these things out _and_ absolute murder on my thighs …”

“Stand up for a second. I think I can get you into a comparable position.” Dib put a gentle hand on Zim’s back as he stood, steadying him. He pulled his knees close to his chest, then helped Zim lower himself back down so that his back was against Dib’s legs and his knees were braced against Dib’s chest.

“Better?” Dib asked. 

Zim nodded, leaning forward to put his arms around Dib’s neck again. “I’m glad you’re here …” he mumbled.

“Where else would I be?” Dib asked, right before realizing what a stupid question that was to ask his mate.

“I don’t know … running from all this weirdness,” Zim said softly. His voice was melancholy, his tone suggesting that he still worried about it, if only a little.

“There’s no one I’d rather go through all this weirdness with,” Dib assured him. “Every time I think we might hit the point where everything is too much, I come out the other side that much more in love with you.”

For once, Zim felt utterly reassured. He wasn’t quite sure if that was down to the way Dib’s heartbeat stayed steady against his antennae, or all of the weird hormones circulating in his blood, or his mind being too tired to manufacture any more imaginary crisis scenarios for the moment. Whatever the reason, he felt completely at ease.

Zim lifted his head and leaned in, pressing his lips to Dib’s. Dib put a hand on the back of Zim’s head and kissed him back passionately, tongue forcing Zim’s lips apart. Zim’s antennae has been trembling just above Dib’s head, but now they pressed down, tangling in his hair, wrapping Zim in his human’s scent. He could still tell how much Dib wanted him, and the idea of letting Dib grab his hips and take him seemed more and more appealing every passing second.

Zim suddenly whimpered and pulled back, unable to deny himself the pleasure of being pounded by his human for even a moment longer. “Dib … can you … would you …” He looked away, radiating shame. He probably shouldn’t be asking Dib to stick his dick inside him while he was still leaking like a broken highlighter.

“What’s wrong?” Dib was certain there was nothing more shocking Zim could throw at him than laying eggs in his lap.

“Everything aches but I just … I feel like maybe it would help if … if you’d just hold me and make love to me,” Zim said quietly. “I know I’m fucked up asking for that … given the whole … ‘I’m midway through laying eggs’ thing …”

“I’ll do anything to make this suck less for you,” Dib said, reaching over to stroke Zim’s cheek. 

Zim looked like the embarrassment of his situation was absolutely eating him alive. “... What if I have the last egg while we’re in the middle of things?” he asked quietly, a blush burning all the way down his neck. 

“It won’t be the weirdest or grossest thing that’s ever happened,” Dib assured him, but Zim still looked unconvinced. Dib nervously ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, honestly, Zim? It _really_ doesn’t squick me out. I genuinely find it hot. This whole process has awakened something in me.” He cupped Zim’s conflicted face in his hands and kissed him. “Your call, though.”

It was the little things, like Dib’s fingers under his chin, that still made him practically melt into a submissive puddle. If _Dib_ really wanted it … 

“I want it,” Zim said resolutely, staring up with pleading eyes. 

Dib reached for the few remaining towels, arranging them so that Zim could comfortably lie back on the cold, hard, pink-spattered tile. He shimmied out of his boxers and looked down on Zim, whose blatant embarrassment over the whole thing made him look inexplicably small as he lay on the floor, knees bent, clothed only in Dib’s borrowed shirt.

“I’m a freak for asking you to do this,” Zim whispered, biting his lip and looking away.

“You’re not a freak,” Dib assured him as he positioned himself between his legs. He propped himself up on his elbows and smiled down at Zim, then slipped the top of his cock up into Zim’s body. Zim chirped in response, high and soft, breathing heavily.

“My good little bug …” Dib said breathily as he slipped a hand between the ground and Zim’s head, cradling it. He pressed his hips forwards and Zim whimpered audibly, a shiver shaking his entire body. “You’re okay,” Dib cooed affectionately as he held Zim against his chest, rolling his hips. Zim was still wetter than ever and Dib easily slipped in and out of him. “I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry.” Zim clung to him, trembling and vocalizing softly. Dib kissed him between the eyes, caressing his neck and murmuring near his antennae in a reassuring tone. “Whatever happens … I’ll roll with it. Know that I love everything about your body and you’re lucky that I am virtually impossible to gross out. I don’t care what weird shit happens.”

Dib felt the muscles around his cock contract _hard_ and Zim winced slightly before pressing his head against Dib’s shoulder and whining in a tone that seemed more than a little concerning.

“Poor bug …” Dib whispered to himself, hugging Zim close to him. “That felt like it hurt.”

Zim nodded against his shoulder without a word.

“Do you want me to keep going?”

“Can you stop trying to be polite and fuck me, _please_?” Zim begged, voice trembling. “These cramps fucking _hurt_ and I want you to just … pound my muscles into submission, _dammit …”_

Dib pressed in deep, still carefully watching Zim’s face for any signs of undue distress.

“You call that a fuck?” Zim muttered, unimpressed.

“Okay, _fine_ ,” Dib huffed, just before he put a hand on Zim’s shoulder to brace him and shoved the entirety of his cock up between Zim’s legs. If he had any lingering doubts about whether or not he should be so rough, they dissipated the moment Zim shrieked out an impassioned, “ _Yes!!!”_ and wrapped his legs around Dib’s body. 

Zim mumbled out a repeating string of “don’t stop”s, chirping and whimpering with unrestrained passion.

It was easy for Dib to lose himself in Zim’s body, and not just because Zim’s thick thighs were enveloping most of his waist. It was scent and sound, soft kisses and the impact of every thrust, all of it mingling together until it wrapped him up like a warm blanket. Dib whispered softly as he leaned down to kiss Zim’s neck, seeming only half aware of what he was saying. 

“You fit around me so well and I love listening to all the little noises you make when you’re getting fucked by me,” Dib breathed.

“You say that like I’d ever be fucked by _not you_. I don’t want to be fucked by anyone else …” Zim replied, just as softly.

“Mmm…” Dib sighed, losing himself in the gentle rhythm. “Good, because I wouldn’t allow it. You know you’re mine, right?”

Zim chirped excitedly at that, making Dib smile.

“Mine, mine, all mine …” Dib murmured between kisses.

Zim was frantically grinding now, enjoying how it felt to have Dib press close to him like he was the most important thing in the world. Dib’s breath was hot against his skin, the sensation making him that much more aroused as they clung to each other, each trying to make the other come first. A sudden sensation almost stole Zim’s attention, but he forced his focus back to Dib. Just a little longer and he’d be basking in the relief that only the best climax could bring. The sensation rolled through him again and he slowed down slightly, trying to determine if that was the normal amount of pre-orgasm pressure, or a warning sign to tell Dib to pull out.

Noticing Zim’s waning participation, Dib abruptly came to a stop. “What’s wrong?” he panted.

“I’m either going to come or that last egg is on its way out and I don’t know which …” Zim mumbled, cheeks burning.

“We can stop,” Dib assured him.

“I don’t _want_ you to stop. I _need this_ …” Zim’s voice was desperate, sounding close to tears. He was still laboring under the unrelenting worry that Dib might end up experiencing something he’d come to regret.

“It’s okay. I promise,” Dib whispered, intuitively sensing what was wrong. He pressed in deep and Zim spread his legs slightly. “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Dib was alright with it, so there was nothing to be lost by letting all his worries go, Zim reasoned. To hear Dib talk about it, it almost seemed like he _wanted_ Zim to have the last egg mid love-making session. The worst case scenario, then, would be that he happened to give Dib yet another weird kink.

 _Surely_ he wouldn’t live to regret that one.

“There we go. You’re so good, Zim,” Dib praised lovingly as Zim finally relaxed. 

The way Dib curled his body around him, back arching with every thrust, made Zim feel at once protected and wanted. Dib’s hand found his own and slid it up towards his head before finally pinning it to the floor while Dib’s other hand still cradled his head gently. He lifted his chin so Dib could kiss up his neck, every movement hungry and desperate. Another round of increasing pressure hit him abruptly and made him squirm as panic rippled through him.

“Dib …” he chirped, shrill and worried.

“I want you to come for me,” Dib murmured, voice low and reassuring. “Be a good alien …”

It was the same thing Dib used to request of him when their furthest forays into fucking involved Dib’s (admittedly dextrous) fingers. A gentle request that still elicited an almost pavlovian response in Zim, making him feel immediately at ease beneath his human. Zim wrapped his legs around Dib’s waist, holding on to his human because nothing felt better than having the maximum amount of skin contact possible.

“Good boy, Zim … such a good bug …” Dib whispered.

As Zim looked up at him through heavily lidded eyes, he could tell how hard Dib was working to hold himself back, desperately trying to get Zim off without blowing his load first. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t above Zim to egg him on a little.

“We both know you can talk dirtier than that to me,” Zim panted.

“I’m going to come on the spot if you make me do that,” Dib warned him without breaking his rhythm.

“So what?” Zim asked, eyes closed, still chirping at intervals. “You know how much I love it when you come in me.”

Dib faltered slightly and whimpered before rolling his hips again, his breathing and heart rate quickening.

“The only times I’ve ever gotten myself off have been when I’m thinking about you still pounding me while you’re jizzing —”

“Oh my god, Zim. _Please_ …”

Zim ran his fingers through Dib’s hair. “Come on, Dib. I know you want to fill me up. Just do it. S-stop fighting yourself and … and hold me down and c-cream … me …”

He exclaimed suddenly, his fists closing around tufts of Dib’s hair as his hips bucked upwards. At the very same moment, he felt Dib’s cock jump and pulse inside him, filling his quivering pussy so full it overflowed. The fact that Dib came like an Irken was probably one of Zim’s favorite side-effects of last year’s birthday present. He whimpered Dib’s name under his breath as he came, punctuating each repetition with a little trill until they both slowed to an easy halt. He was about to demand Dib eat him out to prevent even more of a mess, when Dib suddenly propped himself up on his elbows, grinning in a self-satisfied way that gave Zim pause. 

“Did I just find another trigger phrase?” Dib asked smugly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zim said evenly, looking away.

“You mean I can’t get you off just by telling you how badly I want to _cream you?_ ”

Zim visibly shivered with pleasure as Dib chuckled above him.

“I certainly won’t be abusing that one,” Dib said.

“If you know what’s good for you, you w— _urk_!!” A sudden shifting in his guts made him yelp in shock. Before he could even uncurl, Dib was rushing to get him to his feet.

“Just kneel over me again. I’ll hold you up,” Dib promised. “Being on your back is only going to be harder and hurt more.” He hauled Zim into a squatting position, fingers interlaced under his ass to keep his legs from completely giving out. He grimaced as a spatter of what he was almost certain was 90% his own cum hit his leg.

“Fuck … oh no no no no no … I’m sorry …” Zim choked out through gritted teeth, not having missed Dib’s abrupt cringe.

“You're okay, Zim. You don’t have to apologize,” Dib assured him, rubbing his back. “Besides, I was all set to lick that out of you.”

With his forehead pressed against Dib’s breastbone, Zim hoped to hide the tears that had inexplicably sprung to his eyes. “Why won’t this thing get out of me already??” he whimpered pathetically.

Dib leaned back, shifting Zim’s weight so he could hold him up with one hand. With the other, he reached up between Zim’s legs, slipping a finger up without a moment's hesitation. His fingertips came in contact with the curved shell before he could even push them all the way inside. “I can feel it … you’re almost there.” His finger traced the perimeter of the egg before sliding up around it. “Do you want me to help again?” Dib breathed, desire rolling off him so thickly that it is was all Zim could smell.

Zim nodded into his shoulder, all words escaping him.

Dib rubbed Zim’s walls slowly, working his finger in deeper. He pressed his thumb ever so slightly above Zim’s pussy and applied gentle pressure as he worked it in circles.

“Ah!” The soft little utterance slipped past Zim’s lips, taking him entirely by surprise. But once he’d started, he couldn’t seem to quit, crying out louder and louder with every exhale as Dib rapidly dropped any pretense that involved him _not_ finger fucking Zim to completion. The pressure between Zim’s legs was building close to his breaking point and just as his vision started to tunnel, it let up ever so slightly as his pleasure centers suddenly lit up like an atomic explosion. If he was slightly less busy pushing towards his second enormous orgasm in the past five minutes, he might have given Dib slightly more credit for not breaking from his rhythm as soon as his thumb brushed against the shy little tip of Zim’s tentacle.

With slightly less to impede its path, the egg finally slid downwards, rubbing up against every single hyper-aroused nerve on its way out. Zim moaned Dib’s name desperately as he came, rubbing himself against Dib’s hand to make his orgasm last just a little bit longer. He leaned heavily on Dib, panting and basking in the blissed-out feeling that was filling his body and making it feel tired and heavy.

“Can you stand up a second?”

Dib’s voice seemed soft and distant.

“Don’t wanna,” Zim mumbled, even as Dib attempted to lift him up.

“Zim … _please_ …”

Zim huffed in displeasure but finally complied. He went to shakily stand up and before Dib could even think about what he was doing, he grabbed Zim’s hips and pulled them to his mouth, pressing his tongue up between Zim’s legs.

“What the fuck are you doing, Dib?” Zim squeaked, still feeling light-headed and unsteady on his feet.

“Clean up …” Dib mumbled, eyelids fluttering as he took in how amazing Zim tasted.

“That’s disgusting.” Zim certainly hadn’t _meant_ to moan that, but that was absolutely the way in which it exited his lips.

“I can’t take it anymore,” Dib whimpered from beneath him. “You _smell_ so good and you _taste_ so good and I just need to … _mmph_!!” He lapped his tongue up inside Zim, happily swallowing all the sweetness that flooded his mouth. He pressed in as deeply as he could, moaning and sucking at the exposed tip of Zim’s tentacle, hoping he could coax a little more of it out. He felt Zim’s fingers gently tugging at his hair, a sure sign that Zim was enjoying himself as well.

While steadying Zim with one hand, Dib ran the other upwards, fingers grazing Zim’s PAK before making their way over his shoulders, then grasping blindly for the ends of his antennae. He finally found them and rubbed them gently. Zim was just so beautifully and fascinatingly _alien_ , from his strangely soft skin to the computer on his back to the sweet, slightly viscous egg fluid currently streaming down Dib’s chin.

Once Dib began caressing Zim’s antenna between his fingers, Zim pressed in closer, tipping his hips up slightly. Dib flicked his tongue in and out, enjoying the sensation of being buried in Zim’s thighs, while Zim moaned softly above him. Every time he sucked at Zim’s tip, he could feel Zim’s entire body tremble. He couldn’t stop thinking about how good it would feel to take that entire length right up his ass while Zim pinned his arms down and forced every thick, glorious iota of cock up between his cheeks.

“It feels so good,” Zim whispered high and desperate above him. “Please don’t stop …”

Dib hoped Zim would forgive him for choosing that moment to reach inside his boxers and start frantically beating himself off. 

He swirled his tongue in circles inside Zim’s pussy, pulling back at intervals to kiss between Zim’s legs and tell him how much he loved him and how gorgeous he was and how amazing he tasted. He pulled Zim close and slid down the wall until Zim was almost completely above him, then thrust his tongue up. Zim squeaked and jumped slightly. 

“Ah! Gentle … _gentle_ … oh, fuck, never mind. Just take me,” he finally begged.

Dib let go of his cock so he could support Zim’s weight with both hands. And also because one more stroke and he would almost definitely be exploding inside his boxers.

He pressed deep up inside Zim, tongue aching and hands shaking. Zim had Dib’s hair wrapped around his fingers and was tugging as he wailed in ecstasy far above.

“Dib?” he squeaked out suddenly.

Dib knew precisely what was coming and wanted his mouth exactly where it currently was when it happened. 

“Dib!”

He didn’t want to pull his mouth away to reply, so he just rubbed the underside of Zim’s tip with his tongue.

“D-Dib … _ohhhh_!!” Zim rested all of his weight against Dib’s upturned face and shook as his exhausted body finally crossed the finish line for the third time that night.

A flood of sweet liquid poured into Dib’s upturned mouth, almost drowning him as he struggled to swallow the torrent. He frantically shoved his hand back into his boxers and gave three vigorous strokes before he came with such force that he momentarily saw stars. 

He barely had time to recover before Zim collapsed against him, trembling. He lowered Zim down into his lap, cradling him gently. Zim nuzzled against his chest, purring softly and trying to fully get his breath back.

Dib took a moment to look his exhausted mate over. Other than feeling a bit lighter than he had before, there was hardly a difference from an hour ago to now. Zim was still obviously chubby, even if his belly wasn’t quite as big as it was before. Dib figured Zim would still be stuck with his current wardrobe for at least a while longer, seeing as his thighs and ass remained gloriously curvy. Dib had to wonder if he might be able to keep Zim soft and round. As much as he missed being able to haul Zim around on a whim, a Zim that could suffocate him with his thighs was hot enough to tip the scales.

“Want me to clean you up and take you back to bed?” Dib finally asked. “I can handle … all this.”

 _All this_ was the sticky bathroom floor and the clutch of eggs laying off to the side. Zim just nodded wordlessly. Dib guided him down to the floor gently and grabbed a washcloth while Zim tossed aside yet another ruined shirt. Zim leaned back and spread his legs so Dib could begin carefully wiping him down and then stared at the four eggs an arm’s length away in horrified wonder. No wonder he’d felt so awful. They were monstrously huge.

“What the fuck are we supposed to do now, Dib?” he asked softly. 

“Hm?” Dib looked up briefly before returning to his task of making Zim slightly less of a sticky, pink mess.

“The eggs,” Zim clarified. “They're out in the world, now. We still have a couple weeks before they hatch and I have _no idea_ who’s going to come out of there. Will they be more like you or more like me? Do I just give up on this semester? What about you?? And what about school for _them_? Do we risk putting them through the public education system?”

Dib tossed the washcloth and Zim’s discarded shirt in the sink before taking off his boxers as well. He sat down next to Zim, who slumped to the side and leaned heavily against him. 

“One thing at a time, space boy,” Dib said softly. “I’m sure we’ll be able to figure everything out before …” His mouth went suddenly dry as the full gravity of what he was about to say hit him. “Before they hatch and we have four kids to take care of.”

“Can you clean things up in the morning?” Zim whined, looking up at him. “I don’t want to sit alone in the nest.”

Dib kissed him. “Yeah, it can wait. If it’s gonna stain, it’s fucked right now anyways.”

Zim nodded and stood up, swaying worryingly. 

Dib stopped him with a hand on his hip. “Do you want me to try to carry you? You look like a fall risk.”

Zim’s face betrayed his exhaustion and he nodded. Dib scooped him up and, much to his relief, was able to carry him down the hall with little difficulty.

“Are you as scared as I am?” Zim asked quietly from his shoulder.

“Terrified,” Dib admitted. “I’m still so worried I’m going to make an awful parent.” He set Zim down on the bed and sighed. “I’ll be right back with the eggs.”

He made his way downstairs and peeked around the corner at the landing. GIR was nowhere to be found, so he scurried into the kitchen and dug through the recycling for an appropriately sized box before trudging back up to the bathroom. He braced himself in the doorway and flipped on the light. 

If it weren’t spattered in pink, it _definitely_ would have looked like a crime scene. Dib sighed and lined the box with as clean a towel as he could find before gently lifting the eggs into it. As he held one in his cupped hands, he was blindsided by the realization that his own progeny lay curled up inside. If there was one thing he was determined never to do, it was pass along his own faulty DNA. What if he had just condemned four helpless, nigh-immortal beings to a lifetime of human mental dysfunction?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he set the last one down in the makeshift nest. “I barely know how to take care of myself. When I inevitably fuck this up … just know it wasn’t for lack of trying to get things right.”

“Dib??” Zim yelled from down the hall. 

A jolt of panic gripped Dib, so strong he could taste the adrenaline. He grabbed the box and rushed into the bedroom.

“What’s wrong??” he asked in a panic. 

“What?” Zim chirped, confused. “Nothing’s wrong. Who were you talking to?”

“Oh.” Dib blushed, feeling stupid. “The eggs …”

“Eh? Can they hear in there?” The implications of _that_ made him feel more than a little guilty. He desperately hoped that their world was still dark and silent.

“I dunno,” Dib mumbled. “I just felt like I needed to head off the inevitable disappointment and apologize for myself as a parent.”

Zim sighed. He would be lying if he said that all of his worries hadn't come crashing down on him post-orgasm as well. “Can we cuddle for a while?" he asked softly. "I feel weird and empty and sore and I’m not so sure I should have let you get me off with your mouth like that.”

“Oof. That’s a lot.”

Zim looked up, eyes tired and pleading. “I know it is. That’s why I just _need you_ for a little bit.”

“If you ever stop requiring physical comfort from me, I’ll assume something is terribly wrong,” Dib said, carefully picking up each egg and setting it against the side of the nest. Once he had them lined up, Zim shimmied back against them to keep them warm.

Dib climbed in and snuggled up in Zim’s arms, head resting against a soft boob. Temptation tugged at him, but since Zim hadn’t initiated anything, he held back.

“So … you and egg-laying, huh?” Zim said cautiously. Dib couldn’t quite read his tone well enough to immediately say if Zim was repulsed or confused or begrudgingly into it. “Did it make things better or worse that I had three of them in your lap?”

“Oh, I don’t know …” Dib hemmed. An accusing look from Zim made him rethink his answer. “I mean … okay, it made it better. A _lot_ better. I wanted you so much more after that,” Dib whispered. “Between having my fingers up inside you and the noises you were making and how you smelled … I felt like I _needed_ to go down on you.”

Zim sighed, wilting slightly. “So it’s all _still_ just pheromones, then …”

“Huh?” Dib looked up, brows knitted together in confusion.

“The only reason you found me attractive during all that is because I’ve been leaking ‘love me/fuck me’ chemicals,” Zim mumbled. “Plus, I have _no fucking clue_ what you ended up swallowing when you were eating me out, and that bothers me.”

“Does it matter?” Dib asked rhetorically. “I’m still in love with you and I still think you’re the only fuckable person in the galaxy.”

“You wouldn’t think that me pushing eggs out into your lap was sexy _without_ the pheromones,” Zim said accusingly. 

“Are you kidding me right now?” Dib retorted, sitting up. “That was so hot I might need to ask you to simulate it some time.”

“You're humoring me, right?” Zim asked with one antenna perked, looking up at him quizzically. In retrospect, the whole production felt like a bit of a disaster to him.

“No, I’m being serious,” Dib insisted. “It was incredibly sexy and I might have to ask that you indulge my new weird kink.” He settled back down in Zim’s arms.

“I already indulge _a lot_ of your weird kinks, Dib,” Zim grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“You do. And I love you for it,” Dib said with a smile, closing his eyes. He snuggled closer to Zim’s chest, hoping his mate might take the hint. “In all seriousness though … I’m sure you’ve noticed that it’s midway through February and we haven’t had any incidents yet.”

Zim _had_ noticed. February was usually the worst time of the year for Dib, and Zim had learned to be extra alert this time of year. Even if the chip in his head prevented him from doing anything rash, it didn’t stop him from making plans or just generally feeling awful. So far, however, this February had been remarkably smooth, even when accounting for their minor tiff over Zim’s lies-by-omission.

“I feel _good_ , Zim,” Dib whispered. “Better than I’ve ever felt. I’ve been playing life on hard mode for so fucking long and now I have a shot at being a better, healthier, normal-ass person. And it’s all thanks to you.” He looked up at Zim, brown eyes soft and half-lidded.

Zim raised his non-existent brows. “Would you just take it already?” he said, clearly feigning exasperation.

Dib had a nipple in his mouth and had startled suckling before the full sentence was even out of Zim’s mouth.

Zim shook his head and ran his fingers through Dib’s hair. “It’s going to be a bitch to get you to quit this, isn’t it?” he said quietly. Dib was already too blissed out to answer, but Zim knew what he would have said.

_It’s our ‘thing’._

_I like bonding with you like this_

_It feels good to be taken care of by you._

_I feel loved._

There were a myriad of other ways for Zim to show Dib affection, but even he had to admit that nothing quite beat the pure rush of adoration he got when Dib was snuggled up with him like this. It was a love stripped down to its bare essentials. Zim knew from his forays into human psychology that anyone with a degree would have taken one look at their relationship, deemed them hopelessly codependent, and labelled the entire thing a toxic mess. But Zim felt more functional than ever, and Dib clearly did, as well.

Dib hit the bottom of the first half of Zim’s milk supply and graciously let go without being prompted for once.

“You know I love you, right?” he murmured sleepily as Zim brushed the hair from his face. “Asking because you worry too much about what’s happening to my brain. I’ve always loved you. I just haven’t always been awesome at showing it. But I’m getting better and I’m going to make it up to you.”

Zim put a hand to his cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb. “You’ve got nothing to make up to me, Dib. And I know you love me.”

Dib gave a dopey smile, eyelids flickering. “‘Kay. As long as you know,” he said, before nestling his face in Zim’s chest again.

Zim folded his arm under his head and rubbed Dib’s back slowly, thinking things over. This wasn’t at all where he had seen himself even just a year ago. They’d both grown up so fast that he barely recognized the people they’d been back in December, when he could still see his toes and his feet didn’t ache. But it gave him hope, at least, that they’d somehow stumble their way into parenthood without any major setbacks. Some day, they’d look back and wonder how they’d ever worried at all.

“Enjoy this moment while it lasts, Dib-love,” Zim whispered to his groggy mate. “We’ll both be someone new before we know it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've mentioned before that I don't so much write things as much as I frantically transcribe the things my characters are saying/doing in my head. There's a lot of growth in this chapter, in terms of how Zim and Dib navigate their arguments now. But the thing that's stuck out to me since I "heard" it and put it down on the page is the way Zim tries to bargain when he thinks Dib is going to leave him: "Please, Dib. I’ll do anything you want..."
> 
> Irkens don't fare well when separated from their mates, sure. But those are the words of someone who has internalized feelings of powerlessness. It's easy to forget the Dib in the first chapter who violated Zim's boundaries and clearly weaponized the fact that Zim loved him. And maybe you should forget him. After all, Dib's shown clear growth and has literally changed neurologically. But what do you do about the fact that Zim was still abused and that he's clearly still suffering negative effects from that abuse, even if he's forgiven Dib?
> 
> I'm sure this is EXACTLY what you thought you were signing up for when you decided to have a quick wank to some mpreg smut, yeh? ^^;;;


	15. Backstage Pass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim gets a call from Lard Nar. Dib gets a package.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's mostly just a lot of butt stuff in this chapter. I'm not sure if I'm sorry or not.

_Everybody seems to think I'm lazy_   
_I don't mind, I think they're crazy_   
_Running everywhere at such a speed_   
_'Til they find there's no need_

\- _I'm Only Sleeping,_ The Beatles ( [ but I almost like Panicland's cover better ... ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iwYfKpAd-tk))

* * *

Dib had been dozing soundly until he suddenly became aware that the sound he was hearing didn’t fit at all with the dream scene around him. He opened his eyes slowly to find that Zim had used some of the blankets in the bed to build a barrier between them, dividing the nest down the middle. He poked his head over the top to see Zim, naked from head to toe, curled around the eggs and making a soft _churr-churr_ sound. His antennae twitched slightly as his chest gently rose and fell. It was at once a jarring reminder that Zim was anything but human, and a heartwarming display that convinced Dib beyond a shadow of a doubt that Zim was dedicated to caring for their soon-to-be kids.

Dib searched the mess of blankets for his phone and dug it out. There was no question that Zim would be horrifically embarrassed by this, but Dib found it too agonizingly adorable not to take at least a few photos for posterity. He managed to snap a few before Zim’s eyes slowly opened. Dib opened his mouth to wish him a good morning, when Zim abruptly hissed and smacked the phone out of his hands, claws out.

Dib yelped and quickly applied pressure as blood welled out of the cut. He watched as recognition finally flashed in Zim’s eyes and his face contorted with horror at what he’d just done. He quickly sat up, trying to gather the eggs to his chest, narrowly dropping them more than once.

“I didn’t realize it was _you_!” Zim squeaked, antennae trembling behind his head.

Dib opened his mouth, then abruptly closed it again as he looked away, hand held to his chest. A drop of blood fell onto his leg but he didn’t seem to notice.

Zim shifted all the eggs into one arm and reached out. “Let me look at it.”

Dib shrunk back slightly, his narrowed eyes and pursed lips suggesting he was holding back a tidal wave of choice words.

“Dib, just let me look at it so I can see if I need to do more than just bandage you up,” Zim said, suddenly stern.

“Jeez, _mom_ ,” Dib muttered. “You don’t have to get all pushy about it. You didn’t make me Irken just for me to bleed out from a scratch.”

Zim was about to volley back, but a sudden tone from his PAK stopped him. He hurriedly took out his tablet and picked up the video call that was coming through.

From his position on the other side of the nest, Dib could hear Lard Nar greet Zim brightly.

“Good morning, Zi— _oh my_.”

“What?” Zim asked, shifting the eggs to warm them under his sizable tits.

“... Would it trouble you greatly to put on a shirt or something?” Lard Nar asked through gritted teeth.

“I am the miracle of childbirth,” Zim replied grouchily as Dib stumbled out of the nest to fetch him a t-shirt. “Just had the eggs last night.”

“And that is _genuinely_ wonderful, but …”

“My eyes are up here, dipshit.”

“Well, it would be _easier to focus on that_ if you weren’t _nude as the day you were hatched_ , now, wouldn’t it?”

Dib reappeared and pulled a shirt down over Zim’s head before he could argue. “It’s cold, anyways,” he said as Zim’s antennae popped out of the neck hole and quivered angrily over his head. “You can keep the eggs under there and they’ll stay warmer.”

Zim sighed, rolled his eyes in a show of irritation, and tried to ignore the fact that the shirt Dib had picked out said, in metallic blue letters, “Chaos Manager — but you can call me MOM”. When Dib settled down next to him, wrapping a somewhat protective arm around his shoulders, he suddenly dropped all pretense of being annoyed and perked an antenna at him.

“I said I wanted to take an interest in what’s going on on Vort,” Dib explained as he snuggled close. “This is me being interested.”

He smiled broadly at the screen, making Lard Nar shift uncomfortably. They’d already had their awkward exchange of apologies following Gaz’s admonishment that Dib ought to involve himself more in this part of Zim’s life. And while Dib was happy that Zim no longer had anything to hide from him, he still really only _tolerated_ Lard Nar, and the nervous little goat man knew it.

Dib gave Zim a lingering cheek kiss just to drive home the discomfort of the whole situation.

“Dib?” Lard Nar said.

“Yeah?”

“You’re aware you’re bleeding, right?”

Dib looked at his hand, resting on Zim’s opposite shoulder. It had already stopped dripping and the blood had coagulated along the wound.

“We were sort of in the middle of a thing when you called,” Dib said at the same time Zim blurted, “It’s not my fault!! I was just trying to protect the eggs!!”

They stared at each other, Dib’s eyebrows arched quizzically and Zim’s antennae drooping behind his head. Dib reached out a hand to scratch behind one affectionately.

“I knew from all the reading we did that Irkens were protective over their brood, I just didn’t realize Zim would damn near take a finger off me for taking a picture,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

Lard Nar nodded. “That’s the trouble with relying on scientific studies. They’ll tell you that the subjects fought when they perceived the eggs to be under threat. They won’t tell you what the mates did to calm them, or document the tricks passed down through families. You’re definitely at a slight disadvantage.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Dib assured him. “I’m not about to miss out on sleeping next to him just because he wakes up a little defensive.”

He rubbed the base of Zim’s antenna, causing him to make a happy warbling noise and snuggle closer.

A small smile tugged at one side of Lard Nar’s mouth. “You two are really the epitome of a perfectly bonded couple.”

“Yeah. It’s a miracle, really.” Dib gave him the briefest of sidelong glances, but it was enough to make the Vortian deflate noticeably.

“I’m very sorry I nearly ruined that for you,” Lard Nar said with palpable melancholy. “I know I’ll never be able to fully gain back your trust, or win your forgiveness.”

Dib shrugged. “There’s not really a point in rehashing things. Zim and I proved that we can persevere through anything. That’s done wonders for our mutual trust in each other.”

While it was a backhanded way to tell someone “no hard feelings”, it was also entirely true. Zim rarely worried about Dib taking off, and Dib felt more confident than ever that, despite how terrifying this uncharted situation was, he could figure out this whole parenting thing as long as he had Zim by his side.

“Why are you calling so late?” Zim asked. “Isn’t it past dinner time there?”

“We’ve had some rather exciting developments with our ongoing project and I wanted to loop you in,” Lard Nar replied, rubbing his hands together in what appeared to be a bid to let off some nervous energy. “We’re able to start actual trials.”

Zim blinked. “Actual … _Irken_ trials?” he asked.

Lard Nar nodded. “Recon picked up a small colony of exiled Irkens a few days back. They’ve agreed to be part of the experiment in return for immunity.”

Zim and Dib exchanged a slightly nervous look.

“Why were they exiled?” Zim asked, his grip on Dib tightening. “Are they like me? Or …”

“Irk seems to be in the midst of purging any high-ranking Irkens under a certain height threshold,” Lard Nar replied, his tone suddenly serious.

“Why?” Zim asked. “I know they’ve never been _happy_ about smaller Irkens being anything other than drones, but I never witnessed a large-scale purge.”

“It’s not clear why they’re being exiled instead of reassigned or decommissioned,” Lard Nar admitted. “And it really only gets stranger from there, I’m afraid. The group we found were all former invaders.”

Zim’s antennae shot up, trembling. “ _Do you know their names?_ ” he demanded. His tablet was being held by a PAK leg, but he reached out to grip the sides tightly.

Lard Nar nodded, a hint of a question on his face. It went unasked before Zim hit him with yet another frantic demand.

“Can you tell me if Tak or Skoodge are in there anywhere??”

Lard Nar tapped around on his computer, then mumbled to himself as he skimmed through the list. “Skoodge, yes. But I don’t see a Tak anywhere on the list.”

“Okay … alright. Um … can you keep me notified on whether or not treatment is successful?” Zim asked, appearing shaken as he ran a nervous hand over his trembling antenna. “If it works, I’d like to request that Skoodge be relocated to Earth with me.”

Lard Nar raised his eyebrows in surprise. “We were going to keep all of them on Vort for the time being, but I suppose we could make an exception.”

“He was in the same hatchery group as me,” Zim explained. “I didn’t really have what you would call _friends_ on Irk, but he was the closest thing to it. We went through everything from military training to invader academy to boot camp on Hobo-13 together. But he was nearly as short as I am, so he was always on the tallest’s Shit list even though he was … genuinely successful.” Zim said the last part with a touch of bitterness. “Anyway. The Tallest seem to have a personal problem with him. He deserves to be as far away from them as possible.”

“We still need to run some baseline tests before we get started, to make sure no one is at risk for a genocidal rampage, but I’ll run the possibility by him,” Lard Nar replied. “I’ll leave the final decision up to him, but if he’s on board with it, and the experiment is successful, we’ll send him to you.”

Zim relaxed against Dib and nuzzled into his shoulder. “Fantastic. Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Lard Nar replied. “Well, it’s definitely on the later side here, so I’ll let the two of you go for the moment. But I’ll keep you apprised of our progress.”

“Sounds good,” Zim agreed.

They exchanged brief parting pleasantries before the screen went black. Zim stashed his tablet once again and looked up at Dib, who was giving the far wall a strange look.

“What are you thinking about?” Zim asked nervously.

“You wanting to check up on someone who could roughly be called a _friend_ back on Irk, I understand,” he said carefully. “But why do you care about Tak? I mean, we are talking about one-time-classmate, giant-snack-bowl-incident Tak, right?”

“Yeah, no, that’s her.” Zim sighed and leaned against him. “Now that I have perspective, I think she and I might actually have a lot in common.”

“I’m intrigued,” Dib said slowly. “Go on …”

“She’s the only other Irken I know of who pulled rank, left her assigned post _and_ planet, and tried to convince the Tallest to change her encoding.” He looked up nervously. “I think … she might be a fellow Defective. And it would be really nice to have someone else around from Irk who understands what I went through.”

“Not enough to have a kindred spirit in the bullied earth kid with a bad brain, eh?”

Zim whined softly. “Don’t be like that, Dib.”

“I’m just messing with you. I get why you’d want someone who understands your specific situation.” He rubbed Zim’s back absently. “What ever happened to Tak after she left earth?”

Zim shrugged. “I’ve tried to hunt her down a few times in recent years, but it’s never turned up much.” He glanced back up at Dib, then shifted nervously. “Though, I’ve been thinking … Do you remember how she talked kinda strange?”

“What, the accent?” Dib asked.

Zim nodded. “Yeah. Where would you have placed that?”

“On earth? Uh, I dunno. Somewhere in the UK, maybe. Or New Zealand?” Dib offered.

“Where’s Lyn from?”

“She’s from …” Dib trailed off, realizing that it had never come up despite the fact that Lyn had a _very_ noticeable accent. “I don’t actually know. It always read as Australian to me but I’ve also always been garbage at distinguishing between the different flavors of british-inspired accent.”

“Do they sound similar at all to you?”

“What, British accents and the accents of former colonies? That’s a whole can of worms I don’t really feel like getting into—”

“What? No, I mean Tak and Lyn.”

Dib gave him an odd look, starting to feel a bit like he was being grilled. “Uh, maybe? I mean, they’re close-ish, I guess. Why?”

Zim shrugged and turned away.

“What are you up to?” Dib asked, his suspicion rising.

Zim signed and turned back towards him. “I just think that … maybe Lyn … might not be human,” Zim trailed off, muttering the last bit. He looked up to see Dib’s mouth agape. “What?” he asked defensively.

“I’m sorry … you think _Lyn_ is _Tak_ just because their _accents_ are arguably similar???” Dib asked incredulously. “Lyn doesn’t even _look_ like Tak!”

“But her human disguise was a hologram!” Zim insisted. “That’s easy enough to change!”

Dib squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t want to think about my sister’s love life, but do you _really_ think that an Irken hiding behind a hologram could get away with being that up-close-and-personal with someone for that long without someone figuring out that something is off?”

Zim shrugged as his cheeks went red. “I guess I didn’t really think through the specifics,” he mumbled. “Something about her just seems so familiar.”

Dib sighed and hugged him. “I think you’ve just got momma brain. All those hormones are making you a little paranoid.”

Zim shimmied his way into Dib’s lap and rested his head over Dib’s shoulder. Dib wordlessly stroked his antennae and held him close. It was the sort of tactile feedback Zim had been craving like mad of late. Being held and reassured that his mate loved him was something he desperately needed but wasn’t quite sure how to ask for when his instincts were now kicking up a fuss about protecting the eggs from anything and everything.

A gentle kiss on his temple made him purr softly.

“Are you alright?” Dib asked softly.

“I guess,” Zim replied, but the touch of sadness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“I went to sleep beside you and woke up with a barrier between us,” Dib said as he rubbed the back of Zim’s neck. “Do you want me to sleep somewhere else until the eggs hatch?”

Zim shook his head. “Please don’t let me sleep alone,” he whimpered, hugging Dib tightly.

Dib gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right here as long as you want me to be. It just sends a bit of a mixed message.”

“It’s hard when my instincts are telling me to protect the eggs at all costs but I also need to feel you against me.” Zim buried his face in the crook of Dib’s neck. “It’s confusing and stupid.”

“You’ve been a little broody,” Dib said with a shrug.

“I hurt you …”

“It was a scratch. I’ll live.” Dib swayed from side to side with Zim slumped over him, more than happy to just enjoy the closeness. It gave him time to enjoy all of Zim’s soft curves, listen to the beating of his heart, and feel every warm exhale of breath. He was counting down the days until all hell broke loose, and they were parents to four actual living beings, instead of carrying around eggs like they were participating in a middle school exercise meant to impart to them why having children was a terrible mistake. They’d clearly already taken home the wrong conclusion from _that_ . (Though Dib could _at least_ say with moderate confidence that the eighth grade exercise had given him the necessary skills to be trusted not to drop their children.)

Dib’s phone chimed and he picked it up to see what was pinging him.

“Oh!” he said brightly.

“Mm? What is it?” Zim didn’t even open his eyes. He didn’t want to encourage Dib to get up.

“The package I’ve been waiting on just arrived.” Dib tried to gently move Zim off of him.

“Okay, then it’ll still be there in a while,” Zim said, stubbornly refusing to yield.

Dib kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you put the eggs in the incubator and I’ll show you what I bought?”

“But they’re supposed to stay with _me_ ,” Zim whined. “I can’t just pop them under a heat lamp!”

“They’ve been with you all night,” Dib said gently. “Didn’t you build the incubator to give yourself a little break every now and then?”

Zim knew Dib had a point. It was Zim who had been worried that carrying around the eggs could get tedious or inconvenient eventually, and it was Zim who had fashioned together an incubator to keep the eggs at Irken body temperature. But now that they were here, he just wanted to nest and keep the brood warm.

“Please?” Dib said, trying to coax him up. “I think you’re gonna get a kick out of this.”

Zim made a conflicted noise, but ultimately sat back and handed Dib two of the eggs. “If you drop them, I will definitely have to murder you,” he warned.

Dib kissed his cheek. “Fair.”

After setting the eggs in the incubator, being yelled at by Zim about how he’d set them down wrong, about five solid minutes of Zim fussing over whether or not they were facing the right way, and quadruple-checking the temperature setting, Dib finally made his way downstairs to retrieve the package from the front porch. Or rather, from behind the lawn puffer fish, where it had presumably been thrown by the delivery person when the security system had decided to go off. It was a miracle UPS still delivered to their address.

“What’s in there that has you so excited?” Zim asked as Dib set the box on the kitchen table and sliced open the package tape.

Dib rifled around inside the box for a moment, then pulled out something that looked like a long, hollow, silicone tube with a braid base. He grinned broadly while Zim just stared, attempting to make heads or tales of what Dib was presenting to him.

“What, exactly, am I looking at?” Zim finally asked, perplexed.

“It’s an ovipositor,” Dib said helpfully.

“... What’s it supposed to do?”

“Put eggs inside you.”

“That’s not _remotely_ how egg-laying works, Dib,” Zim said, rolling his eyes. “Nothing about this is anatomically correct.”

“Neither is the foot-long monster cock we own that’s thicker than my arm, but I haven’t heard you complain about _that_ ,” Dib said under his breath.

Zim poked at the toy and gave Dib a bewildered look. “Are you going to _tell me_ what you want to do with this or do you want me to guess?”

Dib went red almost immediately. “I mean … I was _hoping_ you’d use it on me …” he said, trailing off.

Zim raised a quizzical antenna at that, mentally double-checking what he _thought_ he knew about human anatomy. Because, unless Dib had another hole that Zim didn’t know about …

“You want me to _put eggs up your ass_ with that thing??” he asked, trying not to sound completely squicked out.

“It doesn’t sound very sexy when you say it like _that_ …” Dib complained.

“Because it’s _not_ very sexy!” Zim sputtered. Sure, he was dying to put his dick in Dib when it finally returned, but manually sliding eggs down a silicone tube filled with lube sounded like a recipe for disaster. At least his cock was self-cleaning and the fluids involved were anti-microbial. Irkens as a whole were a rather clean species. Humans, by contrast, seemed to have some subconscious drive to find the nastiest, germiest way to do just about anything. It was no wonder the whole planet was a hotbed of diseases.

“Maybe with a little imagination, it might not be so bad?” Dib coaxed hopefully.

“The power of imagination is _not_ strong enough to distract from the fact that I’m putting eggs up your butt, you fucking degenerate! Besides, they’re gonna get stuck up there!” Zim insisted. “I don’t want to have to either explain to a human doctor how those got there, or have to vacuum them out myself.”

“That’s the brilliant bit, though,” Dib said, clearing the space between him and the fridge in two long strides. He opened it and pulled out a silicone container. “I thought ahead. The jello molds arrived the other day and I’ve already got eggs made. If they get stuck, they won’t be for long.”

Zim shook his hands and shivered, as if physically trying to fend off the psychic damage that picturing that had inflected. “I am _NOT_ putting jello up you butt and thanks to that mental image, I’m never putting jello in my _mouth_ again, either!!”

Dib sighed and turned to leave the room. “Well, _fine_. But I spent $80 on this thing so it’s getting used either way. I guess I’ll just have to go enjoy it by myself …”

Zim scurried after him. “What?? _No_ ! You can’t go _cheat on me_ with that thing!!”

“It’s an inanimate object. That’s not cheating.”

“I … but … _ugh_ , fine! You win, Dib,” Zim said, sullen. “I’ll help, but you’re cleaning yourself out first so this isn’t utterly disgusting.”

“Already done,” Dib said with a smirk, looking down at Zim as they made their way upstairs. “I’ve been tracking this package since Tuesday. I wanted to be prepared.”

Zim followed him into the hallway and whined. “Why are you _like this_??”

“What, horny?” Dib asked with a backwards glance.

“Why am I not _enough_ , Dib?” Zim asked plaintively, stopping in the doorway of their bedroom. “Is it because I’m missing my dick? Because I swear I’ll put it wherever you want once it’s back!”

“It’s not because you’re missing anything. It’s just because it’s fun to mix things up sometimes,” Dib said as he dug out the waterproof mattress pad that came out whenever he expected rivers of cum to be a concern. He bent down under the bed and pulled out the storage bin to look for a bottle of lube and one of their regular dildos.

“The new toy is kind of aspirationally-sized, so if you could start out with one of the smaller ones, I think that‘d help things go a bit more smoothly.”

Zim looked at the toy, then at Dib, and let out a plaintive sigh. “I know it isn’t always about me, but it’s just gonna be no fun if all I’m doing is sliding a dildo in and out of your ass without any skin contact or anything,” he said quietly. “I’ll do it if it’ll make you happy. I’m just saying it isn’t ideal.”

“We’ve got that strap-on harness in here somewhere,” Dib offered. “We can put the dildo on that, and you can fuck me.”

Zim shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “It’s better than the alternative,” he finally said. He pulled it out of the bin under the bed, and Dib helped him set it up.

“This might be a nice change for you to get to be a little more dominant, right?” Dib asked as he tightened the straps around Zim’s hips. “I have kind of this fantasy … where you’re really aggressive and dominating and you pin me down and force me to be a host for the eggs.”

Zim raised a non-existent brow. “Do I _wanna_ know why?”

Dib shrugged as he sat back and proceeded to squirt what looked like half a bottle of lube on his ass. “Dunno. You just kinda going feral is hot. That time you were riding me and telling me about how you’d open me up and poke around in my guts has stuck with me, and I’ve been thinking about you and eggs a lot.”

Zim climbed up on the bed between Dib’s legs, and Dib gave the sparkly purple dildo a generous coating of lube as well. He slid his fingers all the way to the base, then slid them behind the harness and up into Zim, teasing him. Zim’s eyelids fluttered and he let out a soft breath, relaxing just a little bit.

“I just want you to make me yours,” Dib whispered, blushing as he laid back onto the bed.

“And I just want to make you happy,” Zim replied, expression still betraying his unease with the whole thing. He laid on top of Dib and pressed the tip of the dildo in, but immediately was met with resistance.

“You’re gonna have to un-pucker your asshole if you want me to be able to do anything,” he said dryly. “You’re way too tense.”

Dib closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths while Zim reached down and twirled a loose strand of hair around his finger.

“Why are you so nervous? It was your idea,” Zim pointed out.

“I didn’t realize this would feel like the most intimate thing we’ve ever done,” Dib said quietly. “I want to do it. It just didn’t hit me until now how vulnerable I was going to feel.”

Zim nuzzled between Dib’s neck and shoulder, purring. “You wanted me to take charge, so let me assure you, you’re in good hands.” He kissed up Dib’s neck to his ear. “Just know that the harder you clench, the harder I’m gonna bite.”

Dib didn’t even have time to squeak out a “ _What_ ??” before Zim clamped down on his neck. He could feel the skin breaking and the blood welling up where Zim’s teeth had pressed in, and it made him putty in Zim’s obviously capable hands. He relaxed and felt Zim finally press inside him, stretching his sensitive hole. He moaned high and soft as Zim slipped deeper and deeper between his legs, letting out a string of _oh-my-god_ s that rapidly became a shrill whimper.

Zim finally let go of his shoulder to check up on him. “You alright?” he asked tenderly, brushing his fingers over Dib’s cheek.

“I didn’t know it felt like this for you,” Dib managed to get out between breaths. “Having someone inside you … letting them take control. I get why you were so hesitant for so long. It’s a little bit terrifying,” he finally admitted.

“But good?” Zim asked.

Dib closed his eyes and nodded. “Amazing. There’s nobody else I’d rather be doing this with.” He could feel Zim’s stomach pressed against his erect cock, and he arched his back as he rocked upwards to rub against it. “Fuck me,” he whispered. There was a desperate, almost tearful edge to his voice as he pleasured himself against Zim’s body. “You can be rough with me while you do it. Bite me. Scratch me. Slap me around a little. Just please, _please_ fuck me.”

“This from the guy who used to constantly gripe about how I’d stabbed him,” Zim said with a smirk. He ran his fingers down Dib’s arms, took Dib’s hands in his, and brought them up on either side of Dib’s head. He leaned his weight into his palms and rolled his hips against Dib, slowly sliding in and out.

Dib’s eyes were closed, mouth hanging slightly open as he breathed heavily. The bloody ring of puncture marks on the left side of his neck glistened in the sunlight that filtered into the room. Zim wanted to give him another one to match. He leaned in and kissed up Dib’s shoulder to the base of his neck, then opened his mouth and exhaled as he ran his teeth over Dib’s skin. Dib let out a breathy “ _please_ ,” and Zim finally bit down hard.

Dib’s legs wrapped around Zim’s middle, cheeks spreading to give Zim easier access to his rear entrance. Zim found himself getting lost in the rhythm and the taste of Dib’s blood and all the little sounds Dib made while being fucked. Even though he wasn’t using his own dick, he couldn’t deny that the harness was hitting all the right nerves between his legs. He could feel his mind slipping deeper and deeper into a pleasant fog. He kissed the most recent ring of bite marks and released one of Dib’s hands so he could rake his claws down Dib’s flank.

Dib gasped and arched his back, then put a hand on Zim’s shoulder to push him back.

“I’m gonna come before we get to the grand finale if you don’t stop now,” he panted.

Zim slumped on top of him. “But I’m actually enjoying this … we’re back to the issue of not having enough skin contact if I’m just sitting there, sliding things into you.”

“Why don’t you just sit on my face or something while you do it?” Dib asked, playing with the ends of Zim’s antennae. “And once you get them all in there, if _that_ doesn’t get me off, you can ride me until I do.”

Zim thought it over. He really would have preferred to just leave it at garden variety anal for the day, but Dib was being oddly insistent about having things that shouldn’t be inserted up his ass, inserted up his ass. “Alright, fine,” Zim sighed as he pulled out.

“Could you maybe also … um …” Dib trailed off with a nervous laugh.

Zim rolled his eyes as he shimmied out of the harness. “Spit it out, Dib.”

“Can you role play it a little?” Dib asked sheepishly. “Talk about making me a host for your eggs or about breeding me or something?”

“That is some … _really specific_ word association,” Zim said as he picked up the ovipositor and looked it over.

“It’s some _really hot_ word association,” Dib said under his breath as Zim started loading the eggs.

“Have you _always_ been like this?” Zim asked. From his tone, it wasn’t immediately obvious if the question was rhetorical or if Zim was genuinely curious.

“Like …?”

“Horny for aliens and improbable anatomy,” Zim clarified, a touch of weariness evident in his voice.

“I wouldn’t say I’m horny for _aliens_ ,” Dib said quietly.

“Well, you’ve been fucking one for a couple years now.”

“Yeah. _One._ ”

Zim cast him a quizzical glance. “I’m not sure what point you’re trying to make.”

“I’m trying to say that I’m _only_ horny for one alien in particular,” Dib explained. “I might be into some other weird shit, but it’s really only hot in the context of you.”

Zim nearly lost his hold on the slippery egg he was trying to jam into the ovipositor. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Dib said softly, blushing. “You’re kinda the only one for me.”

Zim smiled back and gave Dib’s thigh a gentle squeeze.

“So … light role play? Please?” Dib asked with a grin.

Zim stuck out his tongue. “Oh, fine. I’ll do my best. Even if I think this whole thing is wildly silly.”

“Make sure to pump that thing full of lube, then load the eggs,” Dib said as he laid back. “Too much lube is almost enough, when it comes to these kinds of things.”

Zim did as he was told and poured a good portion of the bottle into the toy, then hopped up on the bed and moved into position over Dib’s face. “Any last requests?” he asked, looking down between his legs.

“Just be gentle while you’re putting that in. Everything else is fair game, though,” Dib said.

Zim shot him a thumbs-up and then dropped down, smothering Dib with his thighs. He could feel Dib’s tongue almost immediately working overtime. And he gave himself a moment to enjoy the sensations of Dib gripping his hips and passionately eating him out. Dib certainly had a way of making him feel wanted and cared for and thoroughly loved. Knowing that made the thought of what he was about to do almost tolerable.

He pressed the tip of the ovipositor against Dib’s back entrance, and frowned when it wouldn’t go in.

“Stop being so tense!” he groused, smacking one of Dib’s ass cheeks loudly and leaving a visible hand print.

Dib moaned loudly from beneath him, tongue lazily flicking between his legs. Zim could practically watch Dib’s erection growing harder. He had really thought Dib would back down on his position on rough sex once he was _actually_ getting slapped around. But he seemed more turned on than ever. Zim put Dib’s thigh under his arm and pulled it back to give him better spanking access.

“You are _such—” WHACK! “—a fucking—” WHACK!! “—degenerate!!” WHACK WHACK WHACK!!_

He felt Dib relax beneath him, and hurriedly got the toy back into position. This time, it slid in almost effortlessly. Dib moaned in ecstasy below him, tongue-fucking him in appreciation. His breath came in short, hot puffs against Zim’s nethers, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“You don’t get a choice, Dib. You’re gonna be my host one way or another.” Zim felt stupid saying it, but Dib _had_ requested it. He pushed the first egg out of the toy, watching with a strange sort of curiosity as it stretched Dib’s hole, making him whimper, before popping inside.

“How’s it feel to be Zim’s human slave?” Zim asked, voice low and sultry. He ran a nail up Dib’s cock, smirking as it trembled under his touch. “Aw, is this feeling a little neglected? If you can take all four of these and let me breed you without jizzing all over yourself, I _might_ let you fuck me, as a little treat.”

He had his doubts that Dib would even last that long. Despite being thoroughly muffled by Zim’s thighs, Dib was being incredibly loud, and his cock was so close to blowing that it was dribbling pre cum all over his belly. Zim slid another egg in, and Dib tried to press his knees together as it slipped inside, prompting Zim to slap him again.

“Knees! Open! Dib!” he commanded, punctuating each word with another spank.

Dib’s legs flew open, trembling. His formerly lily-white ass was completely scarlet.

“You’re halfway there. Be good for me and let me fill you up,” Zim coaxed as he slid the second-to-last egg through the silicone tube and into his quivering, obediently submissive human. That egg encountered less resistance than the previous two, and he could just make out Dib whimpering from beneath him. The whole experience actually had Zim pretty turned on, even if he resented it a bit. If he didn’t have Dib working cleanup, he would undoubtedly have been sitting in a puddle just then.

He put a hand on the pudgy bit of Dib’s stomach and rubbed it gently. “Doesn’t it feel good to have a belly full of eggs?” he asked softly. “You exist only to be used by Zim now, so you had better like it.” He squeezed the last egg in and watched and Dib’s cock trembled, but ultimately went still.

“Huh. I thought that would do it. You must _really_ want to fuck me,” Zim said with a shrug as he finally lifted himself off Dib’s face.

The first words out of Dib’s mouth was a breathy and frantic, “ _ride me_.”

“Forward or backwards?” Zim asked, before abruptly shaking his head. “Actually, I’m just sitting forwards. I’ve seen enough of your butt. I’d rather watch your face when you come in me.” He reached down to steady Dib’s cock, silently cursing how unwieldy the human penis was, then dropped down on top of it.

“Careful!!” Dib squeaked, legsflying closed. “You gotta be gentle or they’re gonna pop out!!”

“Believe me, Dib; nobody wants that less than me,” Zim assured him as he laid down and started grinding. “Last time you had something up your butt you said this was good …”

“It’s still good,” Dib whispered, eyelids fluttering. His hands wandered from Zim’s shoulders, down his sides to his hips, and in towards his ass. There was still a desperation to his movements, but they were slower now, as if his mind kept wandering. “This is so overwhelming I don’t even know if I’m capable of climaxing …” he whispered.

“Unacceptable. I did too much work for you to not get off,” Zim replied simply.

“I’m serious … I might not be able t— _oomph_!!”

Zim slapped him across the face then pinned his arms at the wrist. “You belong to Zim, and I am _demanding_ you be a good little human slave and service your Zim to completion.”

Dib stared up at him with wide eyes, trying to process what had just happened. He blinked, then his eyebrows knit together and his eyes narrowed. “Make me.”

Zim’s antenna perked and he looked at Dib nervously, the magic suddenly broken. “Do we have … maybe a safe word or something?” he asked, trepidation evident in his voice. He’d already drawn blood more than once, and things were starting to go further than he felt comfortable with.

“If I want you to stop, I’ll say stop,” Dib said airily. He pulled a hand free and flicked Zim’s nipple with a smirk. “Come on. _Fucking make me_.”

Zim put a hand on Dib’s neck and looked up, radiating anxiety. They’d done it before, but it had been a while and Zim wasn’t quite sure where this fell on the spectrum of things Dib would enjoy.

“Yawn,” Dib quipped, leaving little room for interpretation.

All of Zim’s confusion and frustration were melding together into something that could arguably be called a burning desire to put Dib in his place.

Zim huffed and glared at him, before raking his claws down Dib’s chest. “I’m getting _real sick_ of your attitude,” he hissed as Dib’s back arched. “I’m not _asking_ you to fill me up. I’m _demanding_.” He grabbed Dib by his cowlick and pulled his head to the side. “You’d better hope I don’t end up getting a taste for you,” he whispered against Dib’s prickling, goosebump-covered skin.

He bit down on Dib’s shoulder, grabbed both of Dib’s wrists, and started grinding, frantic and animalistic and frenzied. Dib squirmed beneath him, but couldn’t free his hands. He wrapped his legs around Zim and bucked his hips upwards, shrieking Zim’s name.

Zim had never heard Dib be quite so loud, and the smell rolling off of him was like nothing Zim had ever smelled before. It was close to the scent of candied apples, and so strong it was almost blinding. Zim tipped his head up and nipped Dib’s ear. “Come for me.”

Dib whimpered, biting his lip.

Zim slid his hand into Dib’s and squeezed. “Be good for me, Dib. After everything I’ve done to breed you and make you a good little host, I know you want to return the favor … especially because everything I had to do was utterly _disgusting._ ”

Dib moaned and pressed desperately upwards with an ecstatic, “Oh, fuck, Zim … yes!!”

“Never doubt that I love you,” Zim continued, “because I’ll do the _nastiest_ things on the planet just to make you happy.”

“Zim!!” Dib squawked abruptly, back arching. His legs held Zim in place as his poor, overtaxed cock finally gave in and, with a pulse Zim could practically feel reverberating through his body, starting filling him up.

Nothing had prepared Zim for the torrent of cum that immediately hit the bulls-eye that was his g-spot. He trembled and grinded against Dib’s body, pressing close as his pussy rapidly filled up and everything poured out of him, spilling over Dib’s hips and soaking the mattress pad beneath them. Zim watched Dib’s face with a mix of wonder and confusion. Nothing they’d done up to this point had caused an orgasm of this magnitude. He’d always thought their sex was nearly perfect, but he was struck with the realization that he might have to readjust his scale. Dib was still desperately thrusting his hips skywards while muttering under his breath when Zim’s own orgasm came to an end. It felt like it took a full minute before the torrent between his legs slowed to a trickle and finally stopped.

Zim sat up and took in the damage. “Holy shit,” he muttered, looking between their bodies at everything that was stained brilliant pink.

“I’m gonna be walking funny for the rest of the day,” Dib mumbled, eyes closed as he caught his breath.

“I should hope so,” Zim said, patting Dib’s still-red cheek.

Dib opened his eyes and gave Zim a plaintive look. “Do I get some aftercare?” he asked softly.

“ _You’re_ the one who asked for this,” Zim said, clearly bewildered. “Did I do something wrong?”

Dib shook his head and snuggled in. “It was just really intense and I felt super vulnerable and now that you’ve bitten and slapped me, a little reassurance that you still love me would be nice.”

Zim stroked his hair and held him close. “Of course I still love you. You’re my Dib. You might be weird and a little gross, but it’s endearing.” He cocked his head slightly as something occurred to him. “Which reminds me … did you get off on me saying you were disgusting?”

Dib shrugged, face pressed into Zim’s chest. “It was a coincidence.”

“If you say so,” Zim said skeptically.

He had an inkling that Dib wasn’t telling the truth, but it wasn’t an issue at the moment. He could always test out his theory later. His main focus now was to shower his strangely fragile partner with love.

Things like this always made Zim realize exactly how much he’d been missing out on in Irken society. Most relationships there were fairly transactional. You didn’t get the joy of doting on someone, knowing they were yours, and being secure in the knowledge that they loved you back unconditionally. Just whispering to Dib that he loved him filled a void Zim had felt since he was a smeet. He craved the security of being cared for, the closeness of another being. Dib was all of that.

His phone chimed, pulling him from the swirling pool of his own thoughts. He leaned over towards his pile of clothes and dug around to pull it out.

“Who’ssat?” Dib mumbled into Zim’s shoulder.

“Gaz,” Zim replied. “She wants to do some … _‘pre-V-day shopping’_ as a double date?” Zim cocked his head and perked an antenna. “Do we celebrate war holidays? Did I miss that one last year?”

“You’re thinking of D-Day. She means Valentine’s Day,” Dib said, snuggling back in and putting Zim’s hand back on his head. “Tell her we don’t celebrate meat-based holidays in this household.”

“‘ _I know you don’t celebrate meat-based holidays, so we can hit up the candy store and the place where they make the giant cookies’,_ ” Zim read off. He looked up at Dib, puppy eyes on full display. “You always said you’d get me one of those cookies. I think it’s time to deliver.”

“I’m all bitten up and I have jello up my butt,” Dib groused, hiding his face in Zim’s cleavage. “I’m staying here.”

“The mall also has pretzels and cheese,” Zim said, as if that might be just what Dib needed to hear. “And you can wear a scarf. It’s below freezing out. That’s scarf weather.”

Dib just grunted and curled in on himself.

Zim poked his cheek. “C’mon.”

“Ow! Why do you _care_ about Valentine’s Day??” Dib asked irritably. “We never celebrate it. We can be in love every day.”

“No reason,” Zim said hurriedly.

Dib looked up, suspicious. “Why do I have a sneaking suspicion that this doesn’t have anything to do with us?”

Zim sighed. “Remember that year Tak joined our class? It was on Valentine’s Day and I spent the whole day trying to figure out how to use human courtship rituals on her?”

“Oh no…” Dib groaned. “You’re not _still_ on about that, are you?? Don’t you _dare_ drive a wedge between this family and the smeets’ aunties.”

“I just want to see if she slips up and mentions something!” Zim insisted.

“Let it go, Zim.” Dib rolled onto his side and into a ball.

“This is important to me!”

“This aftercare feels like an afterthought.”

Zim slid over and pressed up behind Dib, kissing the back of his neck and running his fingers through his hair. “Sorry,” he murmured. He tried to figure out how to segue the conversation away from Tak, but all he could come up with was an awkward, “How’s your ass?”

“Sore,” Dib said. “But I kind of expected that.”

Zim ran his fingers down Dib’s arm, sliding his hand into Dib’s. It was good, in a way, to be in the position of providing comfort and reassurance. After all the times he ran straight into Dib’s arms when he was upset or worried, it was good to know that Dib also sought out comfort from him.

It could be hard to tell, sometimes, how his human was feeling. A face was only so expressive without antennae, and humans only tended to make noises outside of speech during extreme emotions. Being with someone who didn’t purr or chirp could be baffling.

“Um … Did I do okay?” Zim asked quietly. “Since it was my first time being on the ‘giving’ end of things.” He still wasn’t sure how much of Dib’s spectacular orgasm was down to him, and how much was due to the sheer volume of jello shoved against his prostate.

Dib rolled over and snuggled just under Zim’s chin. “You got everything right,” he breathed. “The fucking. Being rough with me. The dirty talk. _Mmm_ … it was all absolutely perfect.”

Zim ran his nails up Dib’s neck and into his hair, enjoying the warmth of Dib’s breath against his skin. But as much as he tried, his focus kept getting pulled back to his call with Lard Nar and his suspicions about Lyn. He wished that he could properly escape his past, but it seemed to have a way of finding him no matter what. The smeets could very well end up with an Uncle Skoodge, and if he was right about Lyn …

Well. Whether he was right or wrong about Lyn, Dib was liable to be upset at him for bringing it up at all. But his curiosity demanded to be satiated, and if Lyn really _was_ Tak, and she was determined to make a life for herself on earth the same way Zim was, he would almost feel _more_ at ease about leaving the smeets with her than if she was just Lyn, Average Human Girlfriend.

In front of him, Dib shifted, then squirmed, then sat up with an audible, “ _oh no_.”

“Are you okay?” Zim asked with mild concern as Dib awkwardly bounced to his feet.

“Good news!” Dib called out as he shuffled towards the door. “The eggs aren’t stuck!”

Zim stuck his tongue out. “Ew. Well, once you’re done handling that, we can go to the mall with Gaz and Lyn. Since we don’t have to worry about you laying eggs in the food court, now.”

Dib flipped him off before sprinting down the hall.

“Love you, too, nasty!!” Zim shouted after him.

While Dib was occupied, Zim slid off the bed and over to the eggs. They were still a toasty 39.2°C in the incubator, exactly Irken body temperature. It would do for the moment, while they were out of the house, but Zim was really hoping to figure out a way to safely tote the eggs along with him so he could stay glued to Dib’s hip. It was better for the smeets, anyways, to be constantly surrounded by noise and voices. He’d spent quite a while reading about how it helped their language centers develop before they hatched.

Worry swirled uneasily in his guts as he watched the eggs warming under the lamp.

“You’re only going to be this well-behaved for a little while longer,” he murmured to them. “I don’t know if I’m ready to be a stay-at-home mom, yet. I’m going to miss seeing your papa all the time. I just hope that every time I look at you, it’ll keep feeling worth it.”

He could never admit it to Dib, but there were so many times that he momentarily panicked about his decision to keep the eggs. His whole life up to this point had been about what _Zim_ wanted; putting himself in harm's way just to catch a glimpse of the Irken surface, being the best Invader, conquering Earth, conquering Dib’s heart. Even the decision to keep the smeets had been much more about what _he_ wanted than what Dib wanted, or even what was objectively best for the both of them. He was just lucky that Dib had eventually come around. But now, if the smeets needed him, he would be at their beck and call. They would be less helpless than a human child, but they’d still be reliant on him for _all_ of their needs for at least a few months, and even by that point, they’d only be on par with a human first-grader. He still didn’t know if it would be ethical to send them to public school, or if he ought to be teaching them himself.

There were so many questions, and he didn’t know how to answer a single one.

“ _Please, please be worth it,_ ” he whispered, voice catching in his throat.

“Hey Zim!!!”

The shout startled Zim so badly he almost fell backwards. He sprang to his feet and dashed down the hall to the bathroom, heart racing. He was fully expecting to find Dib in a compromising position, but instead found him standing in the shower.

“Fuck, Dib!” he panted. “What the hell were you yelling for??

Dib pulled the curtain back. “Get in and help me save water.”

“I thought I was gonna need to call 911 because you’d shat yourself half to death or something,” Zim said, exasperated.

“I’m not saying I _didn’t_ , but I _will_ say that I’ve literally never felt cleaner,” Dib said with a completely straight face.

Zim stuck out his tongue and flipped him off. “That’s it. You’re showering alone,” he said, turning to walk back out. “I’ll never be able to rid myself of that im— _GAH!!!_ ” He let out a startled shriek as a blast of water hit him in the back. He wheeled around to see Dib holding the detachable shower head.

“You’re completely covered in cum,” Dib pointed out, as if Zim wasn’t already wildly aware. “C’mon. Get in. I’ll clean you up.”

Zim grumbled, but eventually stomped his way into the shower. Almost as soon as Zim stepped inside, Dib was down on his knees, face between Zim’s thighs, tongue hard at work. It was impossible to stay grouchy as Dib gleefully ate him out, moaning happily as his tongue lapped deeper and deeper.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Zim murmured with his hand on the back of Dib’s head.

Dib surfaced, looking utterly blissed out. “But you _do_ love me,” he said with a stupid grin.

Zim pushed sodden locks from Dib’s face, and found himself smiling despite himself. “Yeah, I do, Dib. I really, _really_ do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have more actual plot stuff. I promise.  
> ... I also promise that it'll have another sex scene. There's a balance to strike here, after all.


	16. Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyn starts to get on Zim's nerves as his suspicions about her grow. Dib fucks up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I was the worst hope of my generation  
>  Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical  
> I should be allowed to share my feelings  
> I should be allowed to feel_  
> \- [_I Should be Allowed to Think_ , TMBG](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NgztPP_CWNQ)
> 
> I've always thought this song was very Zim.
> 
> FRIENDLY REMINDER THAT YOU CAN GIVE KUDOS MULTIPLE TIMES ON A WORK EVEN IF IT SAYS YOU'VE ALREADY LEFT THEM! I still get an email about it and it still counts towards the total!

“Are you _sure_ they’re going to be okay all alone?” Zim asked as they pulled up to Gaz’s house.

“This is basically the only period of time you’re gonna be able to be away from the smeets for a while,” Dib said, reaching over to hold Zim’s hand. With the other, he gave his horn a few short bursts to let Gaz and Lyn know they’d arrived. “Besides, they’ve been living in you for the past few months. They’ll be okay at home for a couple hours.”

“I feel like a bad parent,” Zim whispered sadly to the floor.

“Hey …” Dib leaned over and pulled him into an awkward side hug. “It’s not bad parenting to give yourself a little break. They’re warm. You left some good podcasts running in the background. They’re going to turn out better informed on the issues than we are.”

Before Zim could reply, Gaz and Lyn bustled out the door and over to the car, letting themselves into the back seat.

“Hey, Zim. You’re looking … uhh, pretty much the same as last time, actually,” Lynn said, raising an eyebrow.

Gaz swatted her arm and gave her a rather severe look, which she ignored.

“What did you _expect_ me to look like?” Zim asked suspiciously.

“I just thought that since you’d … uh … ya know …”

“You thought that now that I’m not full of eggs, I’d be less fat?” Zim replied flatly.

“That’s not what she meant, Zim,” Gaz interjected.

Zim was about to fire back, but Gaz surprised him by reaching out and giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

“How’re you doing?”

“Good? I guess? Still trying to process that all of this is real,” Zim admitted after a pause as Dib, no longer concerned that a fight was about to break out behind him, rolled the car down the driveway. “Now that I can actually _see_ them … it’s weird. Being apart from them doesn’t feel great, to be honest.” He sighed and slumped down in his seat. “I need to figure out a way to safely take them with me places. Otherwise I’m going to end up housebound while Dib goes off fucking galavanting all over, doing Tallest-knows-what,” he said bitterly.

“You make it sound like I’m a globetrotting playboy,” Dib said, glancing over. “It’s just classes. And you know I hate people.”

“He does,” Gaz agreed. “He’s low-risk for developing any new friendships, even.”

“I don’t like being _alone_ ,” Zim whined. “And I want to be able to take the eggs places, let them hear people. It’s supposed to be good for their neural development before they hatch.”

“You’ve got a car full of scientists, including a pre-med student who can sew,” Gaz pointed out. “Between the four of us, I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Zim gave her a small smile. Internally, however, he was worried that he was only delaying the inevitable. Eventually, the smeets would hatch, and everything would change. He’d be stuck at home all day, Dib would be too busy with school to pay him any attention and he’d be too busy keeping the smeets away from Dib. They probably wouldn’t get a spare time to bond in the way they’d become used to, either through sex or the late-night nursing sessions he’d grown strangely attached to. Unplanned excursions to other planets were going to be off the table for a while, as well.

Maybe he was just too much a creature of habit. Change of any sort made him irritable and the only reason he wasn’t losing his mind at the moment was that he’d at least chosen this path for himself. He _wanted_ smeets. He wanted a family. He wanted a perfectly pair-bonded Dib who loved him fully and was ready to settle down with him forever. And Zim was getting what he wanted. He just couldn’t allow himself to think too long about what he’d had to give up to get to this point.

He also couldn’t allow himself to think too much about what the smeets were losing out on in terms of their culture. Not that he _wanted_ to immerse them in the emotionally and morally bankrupt culture of Irk. But raising a swarm of little hybrid aliens on a pre-contact planet had its own set of challenges.

A hand on his shoulder started him out of his thoughts. Lyn and Gaz were talking animatedly about something he couldn’t quite contextualize, but Dib was giving him a concerned look and subtly signed “OK?” just low enough that it wouldn’t be visible from the back seat.

Zim nodded. “I guess. I’m just thinking.” While he appreciated Dib’s dedication to allowing him agency over what he did or didn’t share, he _did_ kind of feel like venting, and he couldn’t very well sign it all to Dib while they were driving.

“Anything interesting?” Dib asked, voice low.

Zim sighed. “What do we tell the smeets about Irk?”

“Uh. I kind of think we just … _don’t_ ,” Dib replied as they turned into the mall parking lot. “I don’t really want them running off to try and find their people in an act of rebellion.”

“What if some of their people are already here, though?” Zim offered. “If we can get Skoodge—”

“Skoodge?”

The sudden voice from the back seat made Zim’s antenna jump under his knit beanie. He twisted around to face Lyn. “Yeah? Do you know my friend from the Academy, too?” he asked, deadpan.

“Huh? Oh. Nah. He’s just got the same name as that prodigy kid from calculus,” Lyn explained with a chuckle as Zim stared her down.

“That’s Scooter,” Gaz corrected as she opened the door to get out.

“Zim …” Dib whispered, already sounding aggravated.

“ _What_? _She’s_ the one who said something,” Zim fired back defensively under his breath.

“I came out here because _you_ wanted me to, so just do me a favor and don’t instigate anything, please?” Dib begged.

Zim wanted to argue his point further, but Dib looked so unhappy about it that he opted to just drop the issue. “Fine,” he grumbled before exiting the car. He slammed the door a bit harder than he needed to and ignored a flustered _what-the-fuck_ gesture from Dib.

He just had to remind himself that he was really only in it for the sweets. No matter what the case was with Lyn, the fact that she’d used her knowledge that he was an alien to fuck with Dib had colored his opinion of her more than a little. He liked Gaz just fine, especially considering how much concern she’d had for his well-being over the years. But he found Lyn’s sense of humor to be unnecessarily cruel at times, not to mention blatantly tone-deaf.

As they walked into the mall, Lyn was almost immediately distracted by a rather edgy clothing display.

“Ooh, we’re going on here,” she said, grabbing Gaz’s hand and pulling her towards the shop.

“I was promised sugar,” Zim said with dismay.

“Oh, chill. We can do that after,” Lyn replied dismissively. “You may as well come in and try on something that doesn’t make you look like a frumpy mum.”

Zim rolled his eyes. “Those pants would be too long on Slenderman. I _highly_ doubt they’ve got anything that would fit someone who’s an even four feet.”

“Ah, yeah. I keep forgetting you’re as wide as you are tall,” Lyn quipped with a smirk.

Zim’s mouth dropped and he caught Gaz visibly cringing in response, right before he heard a giggle escape behind him. He wheeled around and caught Dib stifling a snicker behind his hand. Under his hat, Zim could feel his antennae trembling as he seethed with anger.

“You can _all_ eat my _entire ass!_ ” he fumed. “Except you, Dib, because you’d _**fucking like it!!**_ ”

He turned on his heel and stomped off, fully expecting Dib to rush after him, apologizing. But, by the time he’d made it to the first junction where the mall split into left and right forks, it was clear that Dib had no intention of chasing him down. He wanted to be even _more_ angry about that, but all he felt was a painfully hollow emptiness.

Why did Dib fail to follow through on some of the most _basic_ expectations? He knew Zim was touchy about the whole weight issue. How could he sit back and laugh when someone made an _obviously_ ill-intentioned joke at his expense? He was so frustrated, he wanted to scream, but he was wildly aware that doing that in a crowded building full of humans would only generate the sort of negative attention he was constantly trying to avoid.

He also realized he’d left all of his means of accessing money with Dib. The only option that really left him with was curling up somewhere quiet until someone decided to care about him enough to come find him. He walked to the far end of the mall, where there were more empty storefronts and he was less likely to be bothered by anyone, and curled up on one of the benches. He took out his phone and pulled up a horror story he’d been making his way through, hoping that reading about awful events happening to other people might take his mind off things.

Ultimately, he mostly ended up picturing awful events happening to the people he was upset with, and he was several chapters deep before he was jostled back to reality by someone sitting next to him. Considering that this interloper had an entire goddamned mall to go sit next to someone in, this struck him as rather rude. He made a noise just loud enough to convey his disgust before scooting further away.

“Zim …”

His head shot up and he was more than a little shocked to see Gaz sitting beside him, holding out a shopping bag. He took it cautiously and peered inside. There was a pair of loud, plush-looking leggings, a hoodie with the flippy sequins he was so fond of, and a bag of chocolates.

“I’m sorry my girlfriend and brother are assholes,” she said remorsefully.

“I know I’m chubby,” Zim mumbled bitterly.

“Which is perfectly fine and doesn’t give them the right to have a laugh at your expense.”

“What does it matter? Soon I’ll be just a fat, frumpy, stay-at-home mom and you’ll all be _happier_ because no one will ever have to see me again.” Zim crossed his arms and turned away.

Gaz’s fingers grazed his shoulder, but pulled back when he flinched.

“I don’t know why Lyn’s being such a cunt to you today,” Gaz said, slumping down sadly, “but I’m not about to let her shitty attitude get in the way of our friendship or me helping you out.”

“Why isn’t Dib here?” Zim asked, trying not to sound choked up. At the end of the day, he _did_ appreciate Gaz’s efforts. They were just overshadowed by the conspicuous lack of Dib.

“Because I told him not to run after you. I know he’d only have made things worse.”

“Probably not wrong,” Zim replied under his breath.

Gaz put a hand on his shoulder, and this time he didn’t flinch away. “He _does_ feel bad, though.”

“He _should_ ,” Zim said simply, glaring at the tile floor.

“I agree. But he did at least pick out everything that’s in the bag,” Gaz said, giving him a hopeful smile.

Zim sighed and leaned back, sliding most of the way down the bunch until his shoulders were flat on the seat. He looked up at Gaz, who now eclipsed the blinding fluorescent lights. “Sometimes I think he just likes dressing me up.”

“I think he’s finally figured out what you like, and he’s just happy that he can make you happy.”

Zim reached into the bag and pulled out the candy Dib had bought him. He couldn’t help but smile a little when he saw it was chocolate covered potato chips. He pulled one out and shoved the entire thing in his mouth.

“So Lyn apologized?” he asked, chewing loudly and looking a touch suspicious.

Gaz didn’t answer immediately and didn’t return Zim’s sidelong glance.

“What a _shock_ ,” Zim said, rolling his eyes.

“She’s been in a shit mood all morning,” Gaz admitted quietly. “I’ve been getting the same amount of nasty quips. I thought getting out for a bit might help.”

Zim almost made a biting comment about her passing the buck on to him, but stopped himself. It wouldn’t do any good to start a fight with Gaz. It wasn’t as though she had any control over Lyn’s actions. Besides, if he was delicate about it, perhaps Gaz would be more receptive to his theory than Dib had been.

Gaz shifted uncomfortably next to him. “You look like you’re mad at me for roping you into my problems,” she said quietly.

“ _No_ ,” Zim replied, a bit more defensively than he’d intended.

Gaz raised an eyebrow and he shrunk down slightly.

“Okay. Maybe a _little_ ,” he admitted. “But I also had a thought. Dib would kill me for asking, though …” He sighed and turned away.

Gaz shifted fully towards him, leaning her arm on the back of the bench. “Then I won’t tell him you did.”

Zim stifled a smile before he turned back towards her. Humans could be so easy, sometimes.

“Where’s Lyn from?” he asked innocently.

Gaz looked utterly taken aback. “Uh. I don’t actually know,” she admitted.

“She hasn’t mentioned her family moving her over here, or leaving wherever she’s from to come here on her own?” Zim pressed.

“She never mentions her family or anything. I always just figured they must suck, and she was so keen to meet you and Dib because she wanted in on my family.”

“She asked about us?” Now Zim felt like he was actually getting somewhere.

“Yeah …” Gaz cocked her head. “Now that I think about it, even back when we were just friends, she _really_ wanted to meet the two of you.” She looked deep in thought for a moment, then snapped out of it with a brisk shake of her head. “It was kinda weird. Especially when things were on the rocks with Dib for a bit, there.”

“So she’s hassled you about _your_ family, has never told you anything about _hers_ , and you don’t know where she’s from,” Zim said slowly.

Gaz frowned. “I might not know _some_ things about her, but it’s not like I’m dating a complete stranger. I just don’t pry where it isn’t needed.”

Zim held up his hands. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just wanted to make sure what I’m about to say isn’t _completely_ insane.”

Gaz sighed and leaned her head heavily on her hand. “Zim, I love you and all, but sometimes you _do_ sound just a little bit nuts.”

Zim chose to ignore that and get right to the point. “I think … Lyn might be Irken,” he said, eyes tightly shut, prepared for Gaz to be terribly offended. But when she didn’t say anything, he opened one eye to find her looking at him expectantly.

“Were you planning on explaining _why_ , or …?” she trailed off, her tone impossible to read.

“Her voice sounds really close to Tak’s,” Zim said carefully.

“Yes. And?”

Zim shifted nervously. “That was really the only reason I had, until she reacted the way she did to me saying Skoodge’s name. Between all that and what you told me about her being cagey about her background and pushy about meeting Dib and me … I don’t know.” Now that he said it out loud, he felt less certain than before. “It might be nothing.”

Gaz let out a long breath and ran her fingers through her hair. “Maybe. Or maybe not,” she said, her voice so low that Zim wasn’t positive she was talking to him. “I would have noticed something by now, though, right? That hologram trick only works as long as there’s no physical contact.”

“I was thinking about that,” Zim said, feeling bolder and sitting up a little taller now that Gaz was clearly taking him seriously. “That hologram tech was new back when Tak used it, and it _certainly_ wasn’t Irken. If she was looking up more robust methods of changing her appearance, she probably would have run across the same research I did, back when I was trying to figure out how to change Dib’s DNA. The way I did it keeps the major body structures from completely reorganizing. But there’s an easier way that _does_ lead to a complete change in appearance.”

“ _Whoa_ , hold on a second,” Gaz said, waving a hand at him. “I assumed being bad at disguises was a _you_ thing. Are you telling me that’s just an _Irken_ thing?”

Zim looked slightly miffed. “If it’s _stupid_ and it _works_ , it’s not stupid,” he said dryly. “And 99.9% of the time, it _does_ work.”

“How?” Gaz asked, with such sudden intensity that Zim felt almost a little intimidated.

“I don’t really know for sure,” Zim said nervously, feeling out of his depth. “It’s just kind of accepted on Irk that we’re the best at disguises. But on Vort, I read a paper that theorized we maybe emit some kind of low-level psychic field—”

“Like an organic Somebody Else’s Problem generator,” Gaz whispered, eyes widening.

“Ehh … Weird parallel, but sure,” Zim said, clearly confused at where Gaz was taking things.

“It was something Lyn said, when we were talking about why most people don’t notice anything different about you.” Gaz gave the floor a hard stare as she thought things over. “Which brings me back to the reason I don’t think you’re _completely_ off base with this. That night that I got high and told everyone you were an alien?”

Zim pursed his lips. “ _Mm-hmm_?” He still hadn’t fully forgiven her for that one, and he wanted her to know it.

Gaz put her head in her hands. “I’m still sorry about that, okay? It only came up because people kept asking about Dib — which is a question I get _a lot_ because Dad just kind of quit talking about him, you know? Once he started having really obvious behavioral issues and Dad didn’t want him in the spotlight. So people still ask me if Dib died in an experiment gone wrong or got sent to live in an institution or if he transitioned and I’m actually him …” She leaned back and let out a sad chuckle. “Stuff that’s _so weird_ , I’m not convinced Dib didn’t come up with it and spread it just to fuck with people.”

“That does sound like Dib,” Zim admitted.

“Anyway. So they asked me what the hell happened to him and I just told the truth,” Gaz said with a halfhearted shrug. “You know, that there was tension between Dad and Dib because of Dib being such a massive conspiracy theorist, and that he eventually ran off to live with his partner … who is also the kid he used to harass for being an alien.”

Gaz sounded like she regretted every single word that was leaving her mouth.

“Everyone sort of laughed about it, but Lyn was like, ‘But is he?’ And she was just _so_ fucking deadpan about it, I told her that yeah, you are. And she didn’t even question it,” Gaz said with a faraway look in her eyes, tone baffled. “Everyone else thought I was screwing with them. But not her. And I always found that a _little_ weird.” She tossed up her hands. “But when you have a sibling like Dib, it’s easier to write that kinda thing off, you know? Some people just take things at face value.”

Zim nodded. “What are you going to do now?”

“Dunno,” Gaz said dejectedly. “If you’re _right_ , that begs the question of what she’s doing with _me_. If she’s just using me to get close to you … _ugh_.” She put her face in her hands for a moment to collect herself. “Just let me talk to her about this first, okay?”

Zim nodded, before realizing Gaz couldn’t see him. “Alright. That’s fair.”

Gaz re-emerged, still looking more than a little frazzled. “Can I convince you and Dib to come back to the house for a bit? If I’m alone with her right now, it’s going to be _insanely_ awkward.”

Zim gave it some thought. “Are you going to feed us?”

“Consider it as good as done.”

“And you’ll keep T— _Lyn_ off my ass?” he asked pointedly.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother you,” Gaz assured him.

“Then we have a deal.”

Gaz smiled in relief. “Fantastic. Now, what d’you say we find our respective idiot partners and get going?”

Zim was about to agree, but the words died on his lips as a passerby looked at him, and his stomach filled with an absolute deluge of dread out of nowhere. His heart hammered in his chest and he suddenly felt like the world was collapsing around him.

He’d been found out. He was _sure_ of it. He looked around in a panic, suddenly aware of all the eyes on him. He couldn’t breathe. The air went in but it did nothing. The ambient noise had turned into a rush of white noise and a distant ringing.

He had to run.

 _No._ If he ran, they’d only follow. They’d find him. He wouldn’t be able to hide. To escape. It was too far away from the base for him to call GIR.

There was only one option.

“Zim?? What the fuck are you doing??”

He turned to Gaz, wide-eyed and hyperventilating. He could see Gaz’s lips moving, but the words weren’t connecting to anything that made even a lick of sense. He could tell she was getting more and more frantic, until she finally grabbed his hands and held them tight.

The pressure seemed to ground him, and finally, the sounds connected to meaning and the circuit was complete.

“What. The _hell_. Are you _doing_??”

“ _What_?” Zim squeaked out, feeling suddenly sick and close to tears.

“The _fucking_ self-destruct button!” Gaz hissed.

Zim finally looked at his wrist, his hand trembling in Gaz’s grip. The panel on his communicator had been slid back, revealing a single red button.

With a great deal of colorful language, he pulled away and quickly disengaged the systems, sliding the panel back into place.

He folded his hands behind his neck, skin suddenly clammy, and made an attempt to catch his breath. “I think … I’m gonna be sick,” he whimpered.

Gaz took his hand again and squeezed it. “No, you’re not. It’s just a panic attack. You just have to breathe.”

“... Can’ t…” Zim warbled, still hyperventilating. He was starting to see stars.

“Yes, you can.” Gaz took his hand and held it to her belly. “Just focus on me and do what I’m doing, alright?”

Zim closed his eyes and focused all of his available attention on matching the gentle in and out, pausing when Gaz did, and letting all of the panic gradually flow out of his mind and body. He wasn’t quite sure how long it took for him to finally stop shaking. When he finally opened his eyes, Gaz was looking at him worriedly.

“What happened?” she asked gently.

Zim could only give her a weak shrug. “Dunno. I just suddenly felt like everyone knew I was an Invader. It was like … like the only way out was to … to end myself,” he whispered, mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“I didn’t even know you could _do_ that,” Gaz said quietly, horror evident in her tone and on her face.

“It’s what we’re supposed to do if a mission goes wrong,” Zim mumbled. “But I haven’t … I mean I’m not … I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve never had a panic attack like that in my life.”

Gaz stood up and picked up his bag. “C’mon. Let’s get you back to Dib and then we can bounce.”

“I’m not supposed to lose it like that … I’m _Zim,”_ he muttered as he stood up and trailed after Gaz. Sure, he’d had panic attacks before. The one on Vort was especially vivid in his mind. But nothing had matched the intensity of what he’d just experienced. It had been an overwhelming onslaught of absolutely primal terror. The genetic memory of every Irken Invader before him had been screaming at him to abort the mission for good.

“I don’t even _have_ a mission,” Zim whispered to himself, bewildered.

“Huh?” Gaz looked over her shoulder and slowed down slightly, realizing that for every single stride she took, Zim had to take at least two.

“All of that, back there … I’m at a loss,” Zim admitted as he finally matched her pace. “And more than a little concerned.”

“Yeah, you and me both,” Gaz said quietly, as they finally rounded the corner where Dib and Lyn were standing, leaning against the wall. At first, Zim thought his antennae were ringing again, but as they made their way closer, he realized the irritating tone was coming from Lyn. The realization seemed to hit Gaz at about the same time, and she sprinted the remaining few meters towards her disgruntled looking partner, who was currently licking froyo off a spoon in the most nonplussed fashion possible.

“Are you alright??” Gaz asked, panicked.

“Yeah. Blood sugar just tanked outta nowhere,” Lyn said, as if it was nothing. She held up her cup. “Dib bought me a snack. It’s fine.”

“It’s still _beeping_! You’re _not_ fine!” Gaz snapped. “Every time it does this, you fight me on going to the hospital and you fight me on getting a new pump.”

Lyn glared at her. “Cuz I’m not actively _dying_ and besides, I _like_ this one. We’ve been through a lot together.”

“Not a thing _anyone_ should say about their _medical equipment_ , Lyn!! Christ!!”

Zim approached slowly, eyebrows raised in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“ _Someone_ is the most poorly controlled diabetic on the planet,” Gaz replied irritably.

Zim mulled over what he remembered about human anatomy. “Pancreas, right? I can get you a new one,” he offered. It was the closest thing he had to an olive branch, but he was really beginning to exhaust his options.

“Eh, give it another minute and I’ll be fine,” Lyn replied dismissively as Gaz put an arm around her to support her on the walk back to the car.

“Could this day get any fucking worse?” Gaz muttered to herself.

Dib shot her a concerned look. “Did something else happen?”

“I had a _little_ panic attack,” Zim said with uncharacteristic levity.

“He had a _massive_ panic attack,” Gaz corrected.

“Why? What happened?” Dib asked frantically, stopping to look Zim over for anything that obviously might have been cause for panic.

“Wish I could tell you,” Zim said, concern creeping back into his voice. “I have no fucking clue what set it off.”

The walk back to the car and the subsequent ride home was a good deal more tense than the trip over had been. Gaz and Lyn conversed in hushed tones from the back seat, and Zim gathered that it mostly had to do with Lyn’s refusal to swap out her existing insulin pump, before Dib seemed to catch on to his eavesdropping and turned up the music.

Zim was about to turn away, disgruntled, when Dib’s hand found his own and squeezed gently. He looked up in time to catch Dib flashing the “I love you” sign, and squeezed back, hoping Dib got the message.

He was also hoping that he might finally be able to extract an apology from Lyn, but as soon as they got back to Gaz’s house, everything became a flurry to put together a meal so Lyn didn’t slip into a coma and Zim didn’t make himself genuinely sick from the aftermath of his panic attack. Really, he probably should have let it go. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t important enough for him to still be worked up over.

But he was still shaken from his earlier episode and missing the eggs and feeling a bit uncertain about where he stood with Dib, and all of that made him irritable and ready to go off about the next little thing that bothered him. By the time the four of them were curled up on the couch to watch a movie, Lyn so much as breathing too loudly had begun to put Zim into murder mode.

“You okay?”

Dib’s voice right next to his antenna reminded him that he was still a bit miffed at his husband as well. Dib had never actually apologized in person for laughing at him.

“I’m not in a great mood,” Zim grumbled under his breath.

“Would desert make you feel better?”

Zim had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Dib could be outrageously socially illiterate sometimes. But Zim also wasn’t about to pass up the caramel brownies he knew were sitting in Gaz’s refrigerator.

Before he could reply, a piece of popcorn bounced off his head.

“Oi, do I have to eject you from the theater?”

Zim turned and glared at Lyn, who merely bounced a second piece of popcorn off his forehead with a smirk.

“Pause it, would you? I’m raiding your fridge for brownies,” Dib said as he stood up, seemingly oblivious to the absolute storm of rage that was brewing over Zim’s head.

“Then I’m grabbing one of those, too. And another soda,” Lyn replied, bouncing up after him.

“Careful with that,” Gaz warned. “We already know your pump is on the fritz. I _really_ don’t want to have to drag you to the hospital tonight.”

“It’s _fine_ ,” Lyn insisted as she pulled another cream soda out of the box that was sitting on the kitchen table.

Zim’s irritation was finally coming to a head. _Nobody_ cared that he was still cut up about what had happened earlier in the day. His nerves were still frayed from his panic attack. And Dib seemed to think he could buy Zim’s happiness with gifts and food. Which wasn’t _entirely_ off base, but Zim still wanted to hear him beg for forgiveness properly.

But most of all, he had completely and totally had it with Lyn and he was ready to take her down a peg. He pulled out his phone and, without looking up or even thinking through what he was about to do, called out to her.

“Hey, toss me another soda, would you, Tak?” he asked without looking up from his phone. It was a long shot, but it was all he could think of on short notice.

He caught the glint of the metal out of the corner of his eye as Lyn tossed the can in one fluid motion and it arced towards him. He caught it with one hand, a wild smile on his face. Lyn had frozen, looking at Zim with terrified eyes.

“Hoooly shit!!” Zim cackled. _“I knew it!!”_

“Knew _what_??” she fired back defensively.

“Cut the crap,” Zim said with an exaggerated eye roll. “I called you Tak and you responded!”

Lyn turned away. “You were looking at me when you asked for that.”

“No, I wasn’t!!” Zim insisted. He looked towards Gaz, who looked between the two of them and frowned.

“No, he wasn’t,” Gaz agreed. Though she didn’t look pleased about it.

“The hell is going on over there?” Dib called from the kitchen.

“I was fucking right, Dib!” Zim shouted with unrestrained glee.

Dib poked around the corner. “About…?”

“Lyn is _Tak_!” Zim said, exasperated. “Try to keep up!”

Dib pressed a finger to the bridge of his nose. “Zim, we talked about this …”

“So did we,” Gaz said, eyes narrowing. “But now that this whole thing is a _family_ affair …” She motioned everyone into the living room again with a sardonic smile.

Dib wiped brownie crumbs from his face and gave his sister an incredulous look. “You don’t actually _believe_ him, do you?”

“Just sit the fuck down, Dib,” Gaz said tiredly, steering him back into the room.

Lyn was sitting in the chair next to the couch, trying to look as small as possible. Meanwhile, Zim was on the far side of the couch, bouncing with excitement.

Lyn looked up as Gaz passed her. “Please … I’m _sorry_ ,” she said desperately.

Zim scoffed loudly. “Sorry for being an _imposter_ , but _not sorry_ for insulting my figure. I see how it is.”

“This isn’t about—!” Lyn started to shout, but Gaz held up a finger and she fell silent.

“One issue at a time, Zim,” Gaz said irritably. “ _You_ thought this one was important enough to push through even though I asked you to wait. So now we’re fucking dealing with it.” She turned and gave Lyn an expectant glance.

“Is this … _it_ for us?” Lyn asked, sounding small.

“I’m withholding judgement until I hear what you have to say,” Gaz said evenly. “But you’re gonna have to excuse the fact that I’m still _slightly_ in shock that I’ve been dating an Irken all this time.”

“But I’m _human—_!”

“Jesus Christ, Lyn!” Gaz snapped. “Stop! Just _stop_! I _know_ you’re aren’t!”

“I’m human in the same way that Dib’s an Irken!” Lyn insisted. “None of it is a lie!”

Gaz put her head in her hands. “Oh my god. I’ve been worried out of my mind over your health issues for the past hour … is that part real?? If you’re still part Irken, should you even be dealing with that sort of thing??”

“Would you just please let me talk??” Lyn begged. “I can explain everything if you just let me talk!”

Gaz kept her face hidden but gestured for Lyn to go on.

“I made enough changes that I look human on the outside and mostly human on the inside,” Lyn explained, watching Gaz carefully. “I tried to keep as much Irken DNA as I could without it being blatantly obvious, but trying to hybridize my organs broke some things, and now I can’t regulate my own blood sugar. Honestly, Dib’s probably a little broken too, in case you haven’t noticed,” she said accusatorially, gesturing wildly towards Dib, whose bowl was filled to the brim with brownies and ice cream. “I mean, _fucking hell!_ Are you ever _not_ eating??”

Dib looked like a deer in headlights. “I was still hungry,” he mumbled, swallowing hard and hunching his shoulders defensively.

“Alright,” Gaz said, pressing her thumbs to her temples. “If you’re _really_ diabetic, we need to have a discussion about replacing your pump. There’s zero reason to put up with it breaking every other week.”

Lyn sighed and slumped back against the chair. “I can’t … I offloaded a bunch of my PAK processing power into it.”

Zim stopped gloating long enough to cock his head and ask an inquisitive, “ _How_??”

Lyn pulled off her sweater and shirt in one fluid motion, and Dib quickly looked away and closed his eyes.

Lyn shook her hair from her face, then raised an eyebrow at Dib. “You humans are so _weird_ about modesty. You can turn back around, Dib.”

Dib opened one eye to cast a nervous glance at Gaz, who rolled her eyes at him.

“She’s got a sports bra on, Dib. I’m sure you’ll live.”

Dib turned around, and the first thing he noticed was the round, domed, metallic device, backlit purple in sections and clearly attached to Lyn’s stomach.

“No PAK legs or blaster,” she admitted with a shrug. “But it still has atmospheric processors and everything that tells my heart to keep beating and my neurons to keep firing, and I’ll still outlive every human currently on the planet.”

“How’d you manage to fit everything in there?” Zim asked, looking impressed despite himself.

Lyn turned, revealing an intricate back tattoo with curves and swirls that shimmered slightly in the lamp light. “My PAK’s cables connect with this subdermally. The tattoo is made up of nano circuits that connect back to my spine, so if any organic connections get severed, I can override them.”

“Why in the fuck would _that_ be necessary?” Gaz asked.

“I didn’t know if Irk would send someone looking for me or not, since I’m technically a deserter,” Lyn said sheepishly. “I wanted to make sure I was ready for a fight.”

“I have to admit, that’s pretty impressive,” Zim said grudgingly, flopping back against the couch.

“And also a _ton_ of work,” Gaz pointed out. “Why not just stay Irken and use the hologram you had last time? Why go through all the trouble to be an _actual human?_ ”

Lyn let out a sad laugh. “Because of _you,_ Gaz,” she insisted, unable to meet Gaz’s eyes.

“But that’s not why you came here,” Gaz replied flatly.

“Does it really _matter_ what brought me here in the first place?” Lyn asked, expression earnest. “I love you _now_.”

Gaz crossed her arms. “I want to know what your original reason was.”

Lyn squeezed her eyes shut, looking like she was in physical pain for a moment. “I failed the Invader Academy entrance exam,” she admitted quietly. “I waited for _so long_ to take it, and when I finally got the chance? They kicked me out at the final round for being ...” She bit her lip and took a shaky breath.

“... For being Defective,” Zim finished quietly, his demeanor towards her suddenly softening. They’d never checked for that when he was training to be an Invader, but he still knew the pain of being rejected from Irken society over something that was ostensibly their own damn fault.

Lyn huffed and angrily pulled her clothes back on. “It’s not _fair_!” she wailed as she violently yanked her shirt back over her head, hair frizzing out wildly. “They _never used to check_!! They never used to _care_ , unless you _blew up an entire recently-graduated class of Invaders!_ ” She emerged from her sweater, hair standing on end from the static, to give Zim a scathing look. “And it’s _not fair_ when I actually have the _talent_ they’re looking for!! I’m _smarter_ than Zim,” she cried, lip trembling. With a halo of blue hair around her head and rage on her face, she looked absolutely feral. “I’m more _competent_ than Zim! How is it that _he_ passed with flying colors and _I_ never even had a _chance_??”

“ _Watch it_ ,” Zim growled, eyes narrowed. All of his goodwill towards her abruptly ran dry once more.

“It’s not even anything against _you_ personally,” Lyn said bitterly. “The _entire system_ is rigged.”

She got to her feet and Zim leaned forward, ready for a fight. But all she did was begin pacing frantically, eyes unfocused. “When they denied me entry, I immediately took off back to earth. I figured I could infiltrate Zim’s inner circle. Steal his planet. Steal his title.” Her hands clenched at her sides. “I was _planning_ on Zim’s inner circle being _more than just one guy_.”

Gaz sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Yeahhhhh, those two are not big on the concept of friends.”

“No matter what I tried, I couldn’t figure out how to get close enough to Zim to get him to trust me. I was starting to lose my drive to take over this planet at all. It was just pure luck I ran into you when you came to the same university,” Lyn said quietly to Gaz. “And sure, _initially_ , I figured I’d get close to you and use your proximity to Zim to take him down. But the more time we spent together …” Lyn’s expression turned wistful. “I started to see the _beauty_ in this planet. I started to see Zim as _more_ than just a rival, all from the way you talked about him as a friend.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and gave Gaz a tentative smile. “And I started falling in love with you. Badly enough that I made myself a human for you, so we could finally be close. And as much as part of me still wants to prove to the Tallest how _wrong_ they were …” She tipped her head back, as if saying a silent prayer to the stars above. “I want to be here with you. I want to be part of your weird little family. I didn’t even know family was a thing that I could _want_ , much less _have_. And now … I have it right in front of me.”

She stood in the center of the room with a hopeful smile on her face and, for a moment, it looked like the tension might finally break between everyone in the room.

From his spot on the end of the couch, however, Zim snorted dismissively. “You think you can win me over so easily?? _No_. You will _never_ be a part of _my_ family, _Tak_ ,” he spat.

Dib turned, more than a little horrified at the amount of vitriol behind Zim’s words.

“Geez, Zim. Simmer down,” he murmured, reaching out to take Zim’s hand, but Zim yanked it out of reach.

“ _No_.” Zim stood up, hands shaking at his side with anger. “ _You_ let her talk shit about my _appearance_ ,” hissed, jabbing a finger at Dib. “ _You_ let her put my _intelligence_ and _ability_ down, even though _I’m_ the one who was sent to work R&D on Vort when I was little more than a smeet. _I’m_ the one who made it through the Academy on my own merits, despite _everything_ stacked against me. _You_ sit here and act like she hasn’t been _non-stop verbally shitting on me_ _all fucking day_ and I’m _sick_ of it! I _don’t_ want the smeets around _that_ kind of behavior, and I _don’t_ want the smeets around _her_!”

Lyn looked thoroughly cut by Zim’s words, tears welling in her eyes. “But … Zim …”

“You want smeets?” Zim said acidly, teeth bared. “I’m sure you kept your _dick_ , you vain fucking harpy. Make ‘em yourself.” He spun towards the door, stomped his way across the room, shoved his feet in his boots, raided Dib’s jacket for the car keys, and stepped out into the night, slamming the door behind him so hard that the entire house rattled.

The silence that rushed in to fill the void in Zim’s absence was damn near deafening.

“I … deserved _every_ last word of that,” Dib said quietly, still staring at the door.

“Don’t know that you deserved _all_ of it,” Gaz replied, frowning.

Dib sighed and slumped against the back of the couch. “No, I really did,” he insisted. “I didn’t stick up for him earlier today when I should have, and I didn’t stick up for him just now.” He gestured towards Lyn, looking tired. “You and Zim have both been in rare form today for some reason, but in the future? Having a go at him the way you have been without any provocation is _really_ not going to fly with me. He’s been _trying_ to make things work with you, but you’ve genuinely been treating him like crap.”

Lyn wilted. “Maybe I’m more bitter about things than I thought I was …”

“If you’re serious about letting the ‘rivals’ thing go, then just commit and let it go for good,” Dib said with audible irritation. “You can’t just go back and forth on him like that. It isn’t fair to him.”

Lyn hung her head, sapphire locks falling like a satin curtain in front of her face. “Do I even have a future with you all at this point?”

Gaz moved to sit beside her and hold her tightly. “You’re still my girlfriend, okay?”

“My decision is contingent on how Zim feels,” Dib admitted with a pained look. “I don’t want to just cut you off, but Zim’s pretty upset and I can’t say he doesn’t have a point about the smeets. You really can’t be talking down to him or poking fun at him in front of them.”

Lyn nodded, looking thoroughly cowed. “I know I haven’t been great to him lately.” She leaned her head on Gaz’s shoulder. “It’s been rough, knowing that Irk is gearing up to a formal war, and that the resistance might actually be able to properly take them on for the first time ever.” She tucked a lock of blue hair behind her ear and looked up at Dib balefully. “I _know_ Irk is a problem and I _know_ the galaxy would be better off without the Empire. I’m just not sure I’m ready to process my _entire civilization_ and the planet I grew up on being blown away. Maybe I’ve been taking everything out on Zim. I know it isn’t his fault he basically became the face of the resistance but ...”

Dib sighed. “Gaz can vouch for the fact that I’m a little too comfortable walking away from my past when it suits me, so I’m no good for that kinda thing. But I _absolutely_ know that Zim is going through the same thoughts and feelings and emotions that you are. And I _really_ think he could use a friend,” Dib said gently. “If you two can leave the past where it belongs and support each other, I don’t think you’d butt heads nearly as much.”

Lyn nodded, and Dib could see the same vulnerability in her that he’d seen so often in Zim. He wondered if it was a feature that could only be found in Defectives, something that became blindingly clear when they were finally given the love and emotional support that was so lacking in Irken society.

“Tell him I’m sorry,” Lyn said quietly. “For everything. _Especially_ today. I’ve been a mess since this morning and I feel like I’m in this hole that I just can’t climb out of.”

“I’ll tell him,” Dib assured her, standing up to finally make his way outside. He looked back over his shoulder at Gaz. “If he’s really upset, we might be in your driveway for a while. So … apologies in advance,” he said with a grimace.

“You sure he didn’t just take the car?” Gaz asked.

“Nah, he knows how to drive stick, but the clutch is too far away for him to actually operate it,” Dib said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m just worried he won’t let me in …”

“Well, if he doesn’t, you can just text me and I’ll let you have the couch,” Gaz replied with a small smile.

“Thanks. Hopefully you won’t have to see me again until at least tomorrow.” He turned, hand on the doorknob, then stopped for a moment and turned back towards Lyn. “Do you want me to call you Tak from now on, or Lyn?”

Lyn was quiet for a moment, biting her lip as she mulled it over. “I think Tak is definitely still in here somewhere, but …” She gave a small shrug. “I’m barely even Irken anymore, and Irk doesn’t want me since I’m a Defective. So, as far as I’m concerned … I’m just Lyn, now.”

Dib exchanged goodbyes and good nights with Lyn and Gaz as he made his way out the door. As he shut it behind him, all he was left with was the special sort of muffled silence that comes from snowfall at night. He crunched down the walkway towards the car, where he could already hear Zim’s sobs. It was the sound of someone who had fully collapsed under the weight of their own emotional burden, and it made Dib’s heart ache to listen to it.

He approached the door and knocked on the window. Zim quieted for a moment before erupting into pained howls once more. Dib tried the door but, as expected, it was locked.

“Zim? Love? Can you open the door?” he asked wearily.

_“NO!!!”_

Zim was muffled, but his shriek still hit like a bullet to Dib’s chest. He slumped against the door.

“Please … I want to make it better …”

“ _Better_??” Zim hiccuped incredulously. “There’s no making it _better_! You failed when I needed you most!! Sometimes I need you to stand up for me and you just _don’t!!!”_ he wailed, his entire body convulsing with each heart-rending sob.

Dib closed his eyes, but all it did was make him that much more aware of how much his heart ached behind his ribs. “I know,” he whispered against the glass. “I let you down and I’m trying to fix it. I told Lyn that what she did was unacceptable and I won’t tolerate it in the future.”

“You shouldn’t have tolerated it to _begin with!!_ ” Zim wailed. “She _humiliated_ me and you _laughed_ about it and you didn’t even chase after me and I had a _panic attack_ and _all … I … wanted_ was for — _hic_! — you to b-be _there_ for — _hic_! — me!!!”

Dib reached into his pockets, searching for the spare lockout key that he certainly kept … _somewhere_ safe, for situations like this one. Well, not quite expressly for this exact scenario. Though Zim storming off and locking him out of his own vehicle was always a possibility. Luckily, his fingers grazed the spare key that say the very bottom of his jacket’s secret inner pocket. He fished it out and fumbled with the keyhole, finally managing to get his cold hands to cooperate. The locks disengaged with a satisfying _click_.

He opened the door and scooped Zim up as he slid inside, pulling Zim onto his lap as he shut the door against the bitter cold. He was more than a little shocked when Zim didn’t push him away, but instead buried his face in Dib’s shirt and hugged him close. Dib massaged his antennae and kissed the top of his head.

“I’m so sorry, Zim,” he whispered. “I let you down and I don’t ever want to make you go through that again. I am so, so sorry, love …”

Zim was still inconsolable, but he only cuddled closer in response to Dib’s gentle words. It was paradoxical, needing so badly to be held by Dib, despite the fact that it was Dib who hurt him in the first place. But knowing that Dib’s blunders had been purely missteps and not due to any sort of malice allowed him to feel a deep sense of calm despite all outward appearances.

“I didn’t actually think what Lyn said earlier was _funny_ , you know,” Dib said softly.

“Then why’d you laugh about it??” Zim hiccuped into Dib’s chest.

“Shock, I guess?” Dib said helplessly. “I wasn’t expecting that to come out of her mouth. I felt awful as soon as what happened registered, but Gaz told me not to chase after you because she thought I’d probably just make you more upset.”

“She was probably right,” Zim admitted with a sniffle as he wiped his face on the front of Dib’s hoodie. “But why didn’t you tell Tak off for _slandering me_ just now?? You don’t think she’s _right_ , do you??”

Zim looked up, eyes still watery and lip trembling. Dib reached up to thumb away a tear as it rolled down Zim’s cheek and shook his head.

“I figured she was just venting because she was upset. I didn’t _agree_ with it. I know you’re brilliant, Zim.” He kissed Zim’s forehead. “You’re far smarter than me. Lyn may have figured out how to make herself human, but you figured out how to make me an Irken without any weird side effects, _and_ you saved my life.”

“Why do you keep calling her _Lyn_?” Zim asked, expression sour. “She’s _Tak_ , Dib.”

Dib heaved a sigh and leaned back, pulling Zim forwards with him. “I know. But that’s what she wants to be called now, and I feel like we should at least give her that much.”

Zim gave an unhappy _Hmph!!!_ and crossed his arms. “And if _I_ feel like just starting over and asking all of you to call me _Zargoff the Destroyer_??” he demanded irritably.

“As you wish, Zargoff,” Dib said with a slight shrug.

Zim’s antenna shot back behind his head and he narrowed his eyes at Dib. “This is one of your worst qualities, you know. _Humans_ ,” he said with a dismissive sniff. “You’re all just so … _so_ …!”

“Open-minded?” Dib offered with an innocent smile.

Zim gave him a hard stare before spitting out, “ _Accommodating_ ,” like it was a four-letter word.

“Aw, come on,” Dib said, pulling him close again.

Zim squeaked as their chests collided, wincing and curling in on himself. “Fuck’s sake, Dib!! My tits are already sore enough!” he shouted, pushing away.

Dib looked hurt, but let go regardless. Zim watched as Dib’s eyes bounced between his face and his chest, expression conflicted.

“Oh, just spit it out, Dib,” Zim said wearily.

“... Can I help with that?” Dib asked sheepishly, face clearly going bright red, even in the gloom.

“You just want an out because we’re arguing,” Zim scoffed dismissively.

“What?? No,” Dib insisted. “I’m just … I _really_ want to do this with you as much as possible. Before we have to stop …”

Dib’s expression was earnest as he averted his eyes.

“I’m gonna miss getting to be close with you like that,” he whispered, as if he was divulging his most deeply-held secret. “I love the way everything just fades into the background, and the only thing that’s left is you and me, and I can just feel so completely how much you love me and it’s … it’s wonderful.”

He leaned his head back so he could stare up through the back window at the sky. Stars glittered coldly in the chill winter air, feeling further away than ever. Out there somewhere were Vort and Irk and Judgementia and trillions of other people that could have potentially fallen out of the sky into his city. The odds of it being Zim, and the odds of them going from trying to throttle each other every other day, to having a genuine, loving partnership, were so astronomically low, he couldn’t help but take a moment to bask in the realization of how truly, _wildly_ lucky he’d gotten.

Out of everyone, everywhere, the one person he’d ever been even remotely smitten with was Zim.

“There’s a strange sort of comfort in knowing that I’ll never in my life be as close to someone as I am to you when we’re doing that,” Dib whispered with a blissful smile. “It’s the single most intimate thing I can imagine.”

Zim slid off his lap and over to the far side of the seat, pulled his hoodie and shirt off in a single practiced motion, and looked expectantly at Dib.

“Well, they’re _really_ killing me, so … I’d appreciate the help,” Zim said quietly as he folded his clothes in his lap to make a cushion for Dib.

Dib pulled off his jacket and quickly moved over to settle into Zim’s arms. Zim cradled Dib’s head and shoulders, gently guiding him towards his teat, giving a soft gasp as Dib’s lips closed around it.

“There’s a good Dib,” Zim murmured as his entire body suddenly flooded with warmth. He watched as Dib’s eyes closed, his expression fading into bliss, breath coming in soft, warm, gentle little puffs.

Dib had hit the nail right on the head when he said that this was the most intimate thing they had done. Despite the fact that they’d done a whole awful lot in the past year. Zim thought of all the little ways they’d gotten closer since the beginning.

Publicly holding hands as they walked through throngs of their baffled peers, keeping their head high as some of the worst of their classmates muttered and spat insults at them. The first time Dib had stolen a kiss on Zim’s couch, right in the middle of the most tense scene in _War of the Worlds_. Cuddling in bed as Dib convinced him to remove one layer of clothing after another. Bringing Dib back from the brink of death, again and again. Making the executive decision to bring Dib home with him for good. Exploring the galaxy and watching the joy on Dib’s face as he set foot on alien worlds for the first time. Finally having sloppy, awkward sex with each other. Being so out-of-their-minds infatuated that they’d publicly made love on more than one occasion. Dib putting his face all sorts of places it didn’t belong. Dib rubbing his back and bringing him ginger ale and holding an ice pack to his neck while he was stuck leaning over the toilet for hours in the horrible throes of morning sickness. Being woken up in the middle of the night because Dib, half asleep, wanted to cuddle closer.

Zim felt Dib’s mouth finally release and shifted to make it easier for him to latch on to the other side. He ran his fingers through Dib’s hair and leaned down to kiss his face, unable to keep from smiling at how sweet and Irken Dib smelled.

“I don’t want to stop doing this,” Zim admitted, voice small. “I love it too much. And as much as I want smeets … because I _do_ want them so, _so_ badly and I’m gonna love the absolute shit out of them once they hatch … I don’t want to lose what we have. I don’t want to lose _this_. I don’t want to lose making love to you. I don’t want you to end up loving sex with toys more than you love sex with me …”

Dib sucked the rest of Zim’s milk supply down with record speed and popped his head up, quickly stifling a rather impolite burp with his arm.

“Ew. Sorry,” he mumbled, looking a bit dazed and hazy-eyes.

“That’s what you get for doing speed-run nursing,” Zim said with a sad smile, pulling him into a hug.

“I just had to let you know that I won’t stop doing either of these things with you just because we have to try a little harder to find the time,” Dib said gently.

Zim squeezed his eyes shut and held Dib closer. “What if we just _can’t_ find the time? Are you going to resent me? Are you going to …”

He trailed off, but Dib had a sinking feeling he knew what Zim was getting at.

Despite the fact that they’d had the same conversation over and over, Zim was still clearly terrified that Dib was going to up and leave him again. And while Dib was hurt that, even now, Zim viewed their relationship as so unstable and chaotic that Dib would pack up and leave over something as small as not getting any pussy (or dick, as the case may be), he knew that framing it as an outlandish concern and telling Zim to quit asking for emotional validation was both a bit cruel and wildly unhelpful.

Not to mention, he didn’t particularly _want_ to cut Zim off emotionally. Zim could be needy, sure, but Dib had signed up to be the sole provider for those needs. He would reassure Zim a dozen times a day if it made his mate feel better.

“You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to get rid of me,” Dib said, kissing Zim’s neck. “I’ll never resent you for taking the time to be a good mom. I just want to be half the parent I know you’ll be.”

“But what if you use those toys without me and then decide you like them better than me?”

Zim’s soft, woeful question made Dib freeze out of confusion.

“What? Oh, wait … Is this about this morning?” Dib asked, suddenly concerned.

Zim looked close to tears again as Dib stroked his cheek.

“You came harder with those eggs in your ass than you _ever_ did with me,” Zim said bitterly, hurt dripping from his words. “Why would you want something that’s _second best_ when you can just order everything that _really_ gets you off from Etsy?”

Dib felt himself wilt slightly. “Okay, Zim? We need to have a little talk about human anatomy,” he said, pushing his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose. Despite the fact that he’d spent a week reading all sorts of things about alien anatomy, he still wasn’t _quite_ sure how to explain to Zim the wonders of the human prostate.

He silently cursed the fact that the English language lacked a cute euphemism for such a clinical-sounding gland.

While he was at it, he also silently cursed whoever had come up with the word “gland”.

Maybe a little hands-on learning was best for this scenario.

“You know how you’ve got those nerve clusters in your vag and also riiiiight … here?” He slipped a hand down the front of Zim’s leggings.

Zim jumped and chirped. “Your hands are freezing, Dib!!!”

“Then let’s warm them up,” Dib said, voice sultry. He rubbed right around where Zim’s cock would be and Zim began to melt into a blissed-out, chirpy mess. “Feels better with more pressure, right?”

Zim nodded, eyes closed as he slowly slid down under Dib.

“Human guys have something kinda like that, except it’s up the ass.”

“Ugh, Dib … that’s gross,” Zim warbled, but it didn’t have the normal amount of bite to it.

“Maybe … but when you combine the pressure from those eggs with the way it feels to be inside you?” He removed his hand and instead pressed down with his hips, grinding his erect cock between Zim’s legs and moaning softly. “Really, that orgasm was 90% you. The eggs just made everything you were doing feel that much better.”

By now, Zim was unabashedly rolling his hips against Dib, chirping and purring and panting. His eyes were closed, mouth slightly open as he whimpered and bucked his hips up hard. Dib couldn’t help but think Zim was cute when he was turned on and desperate.

“You smell amazing,” Dib whispered. “Take your pants off and I’ll eat you out.”

No one needed to tell Zim twice. He was fully naked in a flash, legs wrapped around Dib’s neck as Dib licked his way inside. Dib’s somewhat muffled, happy moans were music to Zim’s antennae, the lapping of his tongue making something suddenly shift inside him. At first, Zim was momentarily terrified that he was about to start a second round of egg-laying, but then he felt Dib’s lips brush against the top of his cock.

“Dib!!” he shouted, shrill enough to cause Dib to re-emerge in a panic.

“What’s wrong?? Did I hurt—” He stopped short as soon as he saw the tiny, wriggling tip of Zim’s long-absent cock. “Oh my god …” he whispered, right before he licked up the underside of it and took it into his mouth, delicately sucking on it.

Zim trembled. His tentacle felt that much more sensitive for its long absence, and he could tell that it wasn’t going to take much to make him come. Inch by inch his tentacle slid from its hiding place into Dib’s eager mouth. With his lips at the base, Dib was still managing to tongue-fuck Zim with gusto, whimpering all the while. When it had finally slid out all the way, it was partway down Dib’s throat and he was happily pleasuring it without a single sign of discomfort.

Zim reached down to tangle his fingers in Dib’s hair. “I love you,” he whispered, eyes half-closed. Dib was holding his ass up off the seat, so Zim could just barely see Dib’s face over his belly, but, even so, he liked what he saw. Dib’s eyebrows arched upwards, eyes closed as he swallowed hard against Zim’s cock, making Zim cry out and arch his back.

“Shit … be careful. I’m already close,” he squeaked out. He wasn't quite sure where either of them stood on him exploding in Dib’s mouth.

In response to his warning, and as if in answer to Zim’s silent question, Dib merely shoved his tongue in deeper, swirled it around in a tantalizingly slow circle, and continued bobbing his head up and down on Zim’s cock. He also caught that Dib was attempting to inconspicuously shimmy out of his jeans and boxers, one hand shoved between his legs.

“I’m serious, Dib,” Zim chirped, eyes closed. “Unless you want me to come in your mouth you should … _ah!_ … you should really … _mmm_ … fuck. Ohhh … Nevermind. I really don’t want you to stop …”

Dib’s mouth was so warm, his throat so tight, his tongue so long and talented. It was hard NOT to think about grabbing Dib’s hair, pulling it hard and restraining his head, making home swallow everything that came out. Instead, he tried to maintain a modicum of chivalry. He gently nudged Dib’s head back.

Dib merely pressed in deeper, to the point where Zim couldn’t fathom how in the hell Dib was breathing down there. Well, if Dib was insistent on sucking him off to completion, who was Zim to argue? He reached down between his legs and grabbed a fist full of Dib’s cowlick and pulled, making his human moan in ecstasy. He relaxed into the feeling of Dib’s lips sliding up and down his cock, tongue lapping up inside him.

In the end, it was Dib delicately sucking the tip of his tentacle that did it for him, opening the floodgates and finally giving Zim the sort of all-encompassing release that he hadn’t felt in ages. Every pulse of his cock made him more of a blissed-out, trembling mess. He whimpered Dib’s name as Dib frantically rushed to swallow everything pouring into his mouth.

While Zim was still shaking and basking in the afterglow, Dib struggled up from between his thighs and leaned up to kiss him. Dib’s tongue pushed past his lips and into his mouth, and Zim could taste the lingering sweetness of his own cum on him.

“Gross, Dib,” Zim muttered.

Instead of calling Zim’s bluff, Dib just moaned and cradled Zim’s head, massaging the base of his antennae.

“Fuck … you _actually_ get off on me telling you you’re nasty, don’t you??” Zim said with a wolfish smile.

“Maybe …” Dib whispered, cheeks flushed.

“In that case …” Zim wrapped his tentacle around Dib’s cock and guided it inside him, then slid his tongue back inside Dib’s mouth. “You’re utterly _disgusting_ ,” he mumbled against Dib’s lips, bucking his hips up to force Dib’s cock inside him. “You’re thinking about how my dick’s gonna feel when it’s up your ass, aren’t you?”

“Hard not to,” Dib replied, eyes closed and voice breathy.

“I bet I feel better than those fakey eggs,” he purred. “I’ll find that nerve cluster and hold you down and fuck you and make you come over and over again until you’re _begging_ me to let you go.”

“You say that like I _wouldn’t_ beg to be your sex slave,” Dib whispered as he kissed up Zim’s cheeks. He was desperately attempting to temper his arousal, but he’d been beating off when he’d had Zim’s cock down his throat and there was only so much more he could take before he had to give in. And, from the smile Zim was giving him, he was pretty sure that Zim could tell.

“Don’t tell me you’re about to come already,” Zim said silkily in his ear.

“I was … kind of touching myself when I was going down on you,” Dib admitted.

“Do you want me to put it in my mouth?”

Dib’s eyes shot open and he gave Zim a wide-eyed, quizzical look. “Do you … _want_ to do that??”

Zim nodded. “I’m sure your cock just tastes like me at this point. And I know our cum tastes the same. It’s definitely not _bad_ …”

Dib leaned backward until he was laying opposite of Zim, bracing his feet against the door and lifting his ass off the seat slightly. Zim positioned himself so his shoulders were under Dib’s thighs, then leaned forwards and took Dib’s erect cock into his mouth.

Dib almost told Zim to watch it with the teeth as they grazed his delicate member, but the slight threat of danger had him even more aroused. It was easy to forget that Zim — now thoroughly soft and rounded out — was built to kill. Dib appreciated this little reminder. He couldn’t wait to give Zim’s cock a spin. He wanted Zim to hold him down, dominate him, own him, bite him until he was a bleeding, bruised, sore, leaking mess.

“Are you okay?”

Dib finally opened his eyes to see Zim’s antennae hovering nervously behind his head. “Mhmm. Why?”

“You went quiet on me …”

“You’re doing great. I just got lost in a daydream about all the things I want to do once we don’t have to worry about making a mess,” Dib said with a smile. “Keep going … you’re amazing with your mouth …”

Dib’s cock once again disappeared past Zim’s lips, and he could feel Zim’s tongue wrapping around it, pleasuring himself further.

“Good boy, Zim,” Dib praised, eyelids fluttering. “Such a good boy … I’m so close …”

He could feel the pressure building exponentially with every stroke, pushing him closer and closer to the edge until it was useless to resist any longer. All he had time to do was choke out Zim’s name before exploding in his mouth. He could feel Zim swallowing frantically, hands gripping his ass. All Dib had the cognitive bandwidth to do was repeat an impassioned “I love you” over and over under his breath.

Normally, he would have given himself a moment to gather his wits after he finished, but this time he sat up and immediately pulled Zim into his lap.

“Did I do okay?” Zim asked worriedly.

“You were perfect,” Dib assured him. “I just know even the idea of putting your mouth down there isn’t your _favorite_ thing, so I thought you might want a little aftercare.” He stroked Zim’s antennae and Zim snuggled into his shoulder, purring.

Zim mumbled something softly under his breath as he relaxed against Dib completely, and Dib suddenly perked up.

“Did you just call me … Dibby?” he asked. There was no judgement in his tone, just pure curiosity,

“It’s what I call you in my head,” Zim mumbled back, embarrassed.

Dib kissed the top of Zim’s head, lingering as he rocked slightly back and forth. “You should call me that out loud more often.”

Zim smiled, a blush creeping into his cheeks. “Only if you keep calling me ‘love’.” He laughed and slumped against Dib, running a hand up his neck and into his hair. “When did we get so … so soft and squishy?”

“It’s a little nice, right?” Dib murmured.

Before Zim could reply, his communicator started beeping up a storm. He jumped out of Dib’s arms, swearing, and pulled on his shirt. Backwards and inside out, but who had time to care? He tossed Dib’s shirt at him as well and scrambled to get his tablet out. Dib made a few bewildered attempts to ask what was going on when Zim cut him off.

“It’s Lard Nar,” Zim said hurriedly. “It’s the middle of the night on Vort. Whatever he's calling about is probably urgent.”

Zim picked up and didn’t waste time with pleasantries. His words were out of his mouth before his mentor’s video feed even had time to connect.

“Did something happen??”

When Lard Nar appeared on the screen, he looked more haggard than Zim had ever seen him.

“Oh, thank the stars,” Lard Nar whispered, voice cracking. “You’re _alive_!!”

Zim stared at him in confusion, his panic momentarily paused. “Uh. Yeah? Why would I not be??”

“I tried to call you _so many times_!”

Zim looked taken aback. “You did?” he asked, bewildered. “I haven’t gotten a single call since the one we had earlier today. Not that I’ve been checking … Actually, I guess I was sort of busy for most of the day … Maybe it set itself to do-not-disturb mode again. That happens sometimes. Mostly because I don’t like being disturbed.”

Lard Nar just sat, breathing heavily, face twitching in a way that was making Zim thoroughly uncomfortable.

“Is something going on??” Zim asked desperately.

It wasn’t until Lard Nar put a hand to his mouth and his eyes finally welled over that Zim realized his mentor, the person he’d looked up to and idolized, the bastion of logic, the epitome of emotion taking a back seat to reason, was crying.

“I’m so sorry, Zim,” he said, voice catching in his throat. “The experiment group … there’s been an accident.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna admit some things here ... I didn't intend to add TaGR to this and I definitely didn't originally intend for Lyn to be Tak. This is just an example of the story writing itself and veering down a path I didn't expect.
> 
> Everything I know about diabetes I know from my old roommate Ariel and best friend from college Kelsey. The former was the most poorly controlled diabetic on the planet and her pump was a disaster waiting to happen. Hope you two are doing well, out there in the world. And not reading my fics. That'd be weird.
> 
> FRIENDLY REMINDER THAT YOU CAN GIVE KUDOS MULTIPLE TIMES ON A WORK EVEN IF IT SAYS YOU'VE ALREADY LEFT THEM! I still get an email about it and it still counts towards the total!


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